Losing It 7th in the FS Series
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: 7th in the FS series.There's been lots of fun lately, but you never know when someone is going to lose it! If you didn't get enough Nick,Greg or Gris angst this season try here. GS,NOC,GrOC,BrLH,WC. Complete
1. Default Chapter

**Note: As of April 29th, all back chapters of the Feasibility Study Series have been posted in 6 installments (FS 1-71). This 7th installment, Losing It, is a WIP (starting at FS 72) and will have a new chapter added approximately every two days. **

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**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Losing It – Part 1**

**August 21, 2005 (Day 121)  
****Mandalay Bay Hotel  
****12:15 p.m.**

Holding Tawny's hand, Greg strolled through the Mandalay Bay feeling like a million bucks. After a nice long discussion on his highly impressive, soon-to-published forensics paper, he had been able to impress his dad by sharing the news about the townhouse he and Tawny would be moving into soon…leaving out the part about getting it rent-free from his boss for dealing cards. Then he shared the wonderful news that he managed to save over thirty thousand dollars…neglecting to tell him 99.9 of the money was only received eight hours ago via a lucky pull at the Riviera. In the life of Gregory Hojem Sanders, too often the irritating son of a disappointed father, this day was turning out to be absolutely frabjous.

Mr. Sanders grinned like a Cheshire cat as he walked through the hotel with his successful son and the beautiful young lady he was certain would one day be his daughter-in-law. Although he loved his son unconditionally, there was no denying that over the years the boy tested his patience to an extreme. Thankfully, at age thirty, Greg finally pulled his act together and grew into the responsible young man Scott always wanted his extraordinarily gifted, but somewhat misguided, son to be. Not that he ever had any doubts it would happen…eventually…well, maybe a little doubt, but that was all water under the bridge now. In the life of Scott Franklin Sanders, too often the overbearing father of a frustrated son, this day was turning out to be surprisingly fantastic.

As Tawny breezed through the hotel, out of the corner of her eye she saw a radiant bride dressed in a billowy white gown on the arm of a handsome tuxedo clad man. The couple looked positively blissful and she instantly replaced their faces with hers and Greg's. It was only a matter of time until they would take that wonderful walk down the aisle, she was sure of it. With things going so well between Greg and his dad, he would no doubt work up the courage to drop the baby bombshell, and then the last roadblock to engagement would be removed. Well, except for the teeny tiny possibility that it wasn't Greg's baby. She re-figured her calculations. After the paternity test, Greg would tell his father and _then _the last roadblock would be removed. Understanding timing was everything she had no problem waiting. Well…as long as he didn't take _so _long that she could no longer squeeze her pregnant body into the flowing white gown of her dreams. Unless of course the baby turned out not to be Greg's, then she would settle for anything as long as she didn't lose him.

Smiling brightly as they came to a halt in front of the restaurant, Tawny took a cleansing breath through her nose. That's when she smelled it… raw seafood…the kind of horribly fragrant fish that pregnant women suffering from morning sickness _never_ want to encounter…and certainly not when they're hiding the fact they're with child…especially not in front of their boyfriend's intelligent and observant father. In the life of Tawny Ann Cooper, too often a girl who was crushed by the rainbow while trying to launch herself somewhere over it, this smooth sailing day just turned into her typical nightmare.

"Here we are," Scott pleasantly announced when they reached the r.bar.cafe.

"Wow…smells great in here, Dad." Greg glanced around at all the people enthusiastically sucking down slimy oysters. "This was an inspired choice."

"Yes," Tawny twittered.

"Glad to hear it." Walking over to the hostess, Scott informed her, "Sanders, party of three, we have a reservation for 12:15."

"Yes, right this way." She gathered three menus and took off towards the back of the restaurant.

Gripping Greg's hand a little tighter, Tawny proceeded to go with the flow even though her stomach was churning. All around her people were slurping gelatinous mollusks from odiferous shells so she decided to keep her eyes planted on the floor. But even with her eyes averted, each step she took further into the rank establishment, her stomach seized up a little more.

"They have cooked fish here too, right, Dad?" Greg asked, aware that Tawny wasn't supposed to partake in raw fish while pregnant. "Tawny doesn't like raw stuff."

"Oh sure…there's even chicken on the menu."

"Great." Greg patted her back, relieved there wouldn't be any awkwardness. And when they reached the table, he even remembered to pull out Tawny's chair to impress both her and his father. In silence, he rejoiced over the perfection of the day. YES! I couldn't have my shit more together and dad doesn't suspect a thing about Tawny being pregnant! By the time this visit is over he'll be sold on Tawny and me. Then, when I get to California in a couple of weeks I'll break the baby news.

Scott smiled at his son's attentiveness. Becca was going to be even more depressed and bitter when she saw Greg in a couple of weeks. Turned out she could have had quite a catch if she waited for him to grow into his own skin. Silently he chided her. That's what she gets for not believing in my boy. She really should have had more faith, even when Greg was acting like a total lunatic, wearing eyeliner and singing those god-awful songs by that freakish little man who wore frilly shirts. What was his name? Oh right…Prince…then he changed it to that stupid symbol. How could I forget, because shortly thereafter, Greg threatened to change his name to the ampersand sign if I didn't back off about us playing in the father-son tennis tournament at the club. Then he went to a vintage clothing store and bought a bunch of those asinine pirate shirts just to piss me off and show me he meant business. Oh god…he looked like _Captain Sexually Confused_ of the SS Effeminate and then Bev encouraged him by letting him borrow her silk scarves, because she didn't want to stifle his creative flair. And he wondered why Becca wouldn't date him? On second thought…I don't blame Becca at all.

When a waiter approached the table he pleasantly announced, "Hello, my name is Chad, welcome to the r.bar.cafe. Can I start you off with a drink and maybe our Special Sunday Shooter?" While he waited for a reply, he stared at Tawny…specifically at her breasts.

Her head swirling in sync with her stomach she only heard part of the waiter's question. "I'm sorry, what's your special today?"

With a delightful smile the waiter explained, "Our Sunday Shooter is a cocktail glass full of six _juicy_ oysters _swimming _in a _thick mixture_ of Grey Goose Vodka, Tomato Juice, Cocktail Sauce and Tabasco. _Glides right down your gullet_. Would you like to try one?"

"Uh…just a Sprite thanks." She forced a closed lipped smile as the putrid stench continued to work its black magic.

"Oooh! I'll have one of those!" Greg requested with anticipation in his voice.

"Make it two." Scott smiled and said, "And a nice tall glass of ice water in case any of those suckers gets caught in my throat. Then he turned to Tawny. "Would you like a different appetizer, Sweetheart? Order anything you'd like. Don't be shy."

As she contemplated the question she found herself mesmerized by a man at the next table who was hoisting a gunk-filled shell above his tilted head. Before she could turn away she saw him shake the ooze free and let it fall onto his outstretched tongue. In the process, some of the putrid juice slid down his chin and as if that wasn't already bad enough, she heard him choke, then proclaim, _that one was huge…got caught in my throat. _

Scott tapped her on the forearm. "Are you okay, Dear? You look a little vexed all of a sudden."

"Uh…" Swallowing hard she tried to think of an escape while struggling not to lose it. "I…I was supposed to phone a girlfriend who…" She paused to force the bile back down her esophagus then continued to drop hints for Greg. "…who is pregnant…she's feeling really sick lately. I felt rude interrupting our lunch to keep my promise…but now, I feel urgently different."

"Nonsense, don't break a promise on account of my impromptu visit," Scott pleasantly assured her. "Why don't you step out in the lobby and call her while…"

"OKAY!" With that she grabbed her purse and took off running. "Don't wait for me! It could be a long call!"

Scott looked at Greg. "That type of dedication to friends is an outstanding quality in a woman. Friendship is the backbone of marriage, Son."

"Yeah." Glancing over his shoulder he watched his best buddy rush out to presumably toss her cookies.

By the time Tawny reached the exit of the restaurant, she was in a full blown panic looking for someplace to hurl. When she saw a trash can near the elevator, she raced over, ripped off the lid and let loose…much to the horror of the _many_ passersby on the bustling Sunday afternoon at the tranquil Mandalay Bay. After her third round of tortuous dry heaves she heard a familiar voice saying…

"Tawny? Can I help you?"

Holding her dizzy head, she turned her green face in the voice's direction. "Gil," She weakly greeted. "Yes…help me."

Luckily Gil caught her before she hit the floor. Instinctively he pulled her into his chest and smoothed his hand over her back. "Tawny? Where's Greg?" Now he felt even better about cutting the visit short at the mega-mansion.

When Ron finally closed the gap between himself and his son he saw a young sexy blonde pressed against Gil's body. "Whoa…now here's something I didn't know about _you._ All that talk about me hurting Sara…look who shouldn't have been casting stones. What…is your halo at the cleaners today, Hypocrite? You better not blame me for influencing you either. For the record, I'm appalled."

"What?" He stared at his father in disbelief. "She's my co-worker's girlfriend, not mine! I saw her vomiting in the trash can and when I reached her, she fainted. Did you think I rushed in here looking for a blonde and swept her off her feet in three minutes?"

Ron chuckled, "My record is two minutes and I assumed the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Sorry." When he heard the girl moan he asked, "What's wrong with her?"

"Morning sickness I assume." Gil pulled her away from his chest and gently tapped her cheeks. "Tawny…are you okay?"

When a hotel worker came over to remove and replace the trash can liner, Ron suggested. "Let's get her up to the suite where she can lie down."

"I doubt she's here alone," Gil commented as he took her over to a nearby bench. "Tawny…what were you doing before you got sick? Is Greg here?"

Finally out of her stupor she clutched Gil's shirt and rambled, "Greg's dad…he showed up in town without warning." Pointing in the direction of the restaurant she snipped, "He took us out to lunch at that disgusting fish place from hell!" Then she softened her tone. "The visit is going so well for Greg. His dad is _so _proud of him. I don't want to ruin the buzz. He can't find out Greg got me pregnant. His dad has lectured him about safe sex since Greg was fifteen! He'll lose it if he finds out he was irresponsible. But I'm so sick and I'm so tired. We haven't slept. We've been up all night since your party. What am I going to do? I'm supposed to be in the lobby making a call to check in on a sick pregnant friend. How can I pull this off?"

Considering his own past with a pregnant girlfriend and a disapproving father, Ron was instantly hooked by the story and taken with the young desperate girl who obviously loved her boyfriend dearly. "Here's what we do. Gil, you go into the restaurant and say you found Tawny in the lobby and she told you she was on the phone with her friend who was having a rough time. Then say she remarked it was very difficult to hear her friend in the noisy hotel, so you suggested she return with me to my suite and make her call from my land line. Tell them if she's not done before they are through with lunch, they should come up to the suite and meet her. She'll of course stay in the suite until they're done with lunch at the fish place from hell. Think you can pull that off…that is if you don't mind stretching the truth a bit, Gil?"

Tawny stared at the man with the plan and then said, "You're that guy who looked a lot like Gil, who was checking out Greg's mom when she was parking Greg's black Z here at the Mandalay last week."

"I'm Gil's dad by the way, and yes, I remember that gorgeous woman in the black Z!" Ron enthused and when he noticed his son's stare he said, "Hey, I'm old, but I ain't dead."

Tawny pleaded with Gil. "Will you do what your dad said while I go to his suite and rest? Pretty please."

Sighing, Gil helped the desperate girl to her feet. "Greg is going to have to tell his dad eventually, you do realize that, right?"

"Yes, but not today and not like this." With love in her voice she explained, "Greg is thrilled to impress his dad for once. I want him to have that feeling for more than a few hours. I'm positive he plans on telling him in California over Labor Day. So will you help?"

"Sure." Gil handed Tawny over to his father. "Make sure she doesn't fall."

"I'll take good care of her." Ron winked, "Remember…when stretching the truth it's best to say as little as possible."

"Thanks for the sage and unscrupulous advice, Dad," He grumbled as he headed for the fish place from hell feeling a little queasy himself all of a sudden.

When he arrived at the hostess stand he said, "I'm looking for friends of mine. If they had a reservation it would be under Sanders."

The young girl referenced her book and smiled. "Table forty-two, right this way."

As Gil followed the girl through the restaurant his appetite ignited.

"Gris?" Greg announced in a surprised tone when he saw his co-worker approach. "What are you doing here?"

"Gil." Scott stood and extended his hand. "How long has it been? Well, I guess since the lab explosion. Nice to see you again…and under much better circumstances."

"Yes." Gil returned the handshake. "I'm happy to report we've had a perfect safety record at the lab ever since the unfortunate event. And to answer your question, Greg, I bumped into Tawny in the lobby. She told me her friend was having a rough time and she was trying to talk to her, but it was too noisy. I suggested that she go upstairs with my father to his suite and make the call on his land line. She wanted me to tell you that she thought she'd be a while and make her apologies."

Scott pulled out her chair. "Why don't you join us in her place, Gil? I'd love to hear your perspective on my son's career switch from the lab to the field."

"Uh…" Then he noted the pathetic look in Greg's eyes. "Sure, I'd love to tell you what an outstanding job your son is doing in his new position." He pulled out a chair. "How about I start off by telling you how he saved my wife's life?"

His face exploding into a smile, Greg relaxed in his chair thinking…could this day get any better!

Meanwhile, in the private elevator to the Presidential Suite, Tawny felt weak again. So when they reached the 38th floor, Wayne, the elevator operator, scooped Tawny into his arms to carry her to Mr. Grissom's suite.

At the door, Ron entered his access code and when he opened it he instructed, "Just bring her back to the master bedroom."

From her position in an overstuffed chair in the living room, Angelina lowered her book and removed her reading glasses. One look at the extraordinarily young and buxom blonde in the elevator operator's arms and she jumped up screaming, "GUERO! You've gone too far this time! I think you've finally lost what little is left of your mind! What is she twenty! I quit!"

"What!" Then Ron realized the conclusion to which she had jumped. "You think I'm bringing her up here for _sex?_" Holding his chest he burst out laughing. "Have you lost your mind? Two minutes with her and my ticker would give. Besides, she's not my type." He saw Lina's judgmental glare. "Okay, she's not my type anymore! She's Gil's co-worker's girlfriend and it's a long story."

"Whoa," Tawny remarked as the hotel employee whisked her through the suite. "When I was active on the party circuit, I saw my fair share of luxury suites in this town, but this is outrageous. This even makes Edward's suite in Pretty Woman look small!"

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****12:40 p.m**.

When Nick and Carrie excused themselves from the church picnic early, everyone, even the Pastor, accused them of going home to fool around. Little did they know.

As soon as they entered the apartment, they kicked off their shoes, hurried into the bedroom and collapsed with their backs against the rumpled sheets.

Glancing over at his fiancée, Nick joked, "You wanna be on top?"

Closing her eyes, Carrie wistfully retorted, "I don't care what position I'm in as long as I can sleep."

"Amen." Reaching over he pulled her close, snuggled up and closed his eyes. Two minutes later he groaned, "Maybe we should set the alarm clock, in case we sleep through the night. I'm that exhausted."

Already comfortable she sighed, "I'm sure one of us will get up to pee at some point because we drank a lot of iced tea at the picnic. Whoever does first should set the clock."

His eyes snapped open. "Damn…why did you have to go and mention drinking all that iced tea and peeing?"

Carrie moaned, "Mmmm…I was just about to curse myself for that, because now I have to go."

In a flash, Nick pounced over Carrie, bounced off the bed and darted into the master bathroom.

"Nice show of chivalry, Tex!" She yelled while thrusting her exhausted body out of bed and trudging out of the room to use the guest bath. "You pull that stunt in the future when I'm pregnant and suffering from an overactive bladder, you better sleep with your eyes open when you come back to bed!"

**Crime Lab  
****Ladies Room  
****12:45 p.m. **

After peeing for what had to be the tenth time that day, Sara breezed out of the bathroom stall and approached the row of sinks.

Sofia, who was already there washing her hands snipped, "That must be one hell of a raging bladder infection you have."

"Excuse me?" Sara stopped in mid-scrub.

"Sorry, as a Criminalist I can't turn off my powers of observation. I've noticed you going in and out of the ladies room all day." Grabbing a paper towel she smirked. "The two most popular ways to join the frequent-pee club are bladder infection and pregnancy. So which is it? Do I offer to get you a container of cranberry juice from the cafeteria or say congratulations? Or are you prematurely aging and have lost control of your functionality?"

Caught off guard Sara replied, "Uh…"

"Wow, I've rendered you speechless." Sofia snatched her lipstick from her purse and began applying it.

"I'm speechless because I was surprised you'd offer to get me cranberry juice. I've always assumed you hated me."

"I don't hate you," She scoffed then smiled. "You irritate me, and your husband irritates me even more."

Sara returned the smile. "Well, you irritate me, and you irritate my husband even more, so I guess we're all even in that respect. So tell me, why did you agree to work Greg's shift and consequently work for me, if you find me so irritating?"

"Ugh." She twisted her lipstick closed. "Because Greg is one of the few people around here who doesn't irritate me, and when he came begging he had that pathetic puppy-dog eye thing going on and I can't resist him when he's like that…that look is kryptonite to my seemingly impervious bitchiness. But if you tell him I feel that way, I'll spread the word that you're peeing like a racehorse every twenty minutes and rumor has it the baby is Vartann's."

Laughing, Sara replied, "There's the Sofia I know and don't love."

Tossing her purse over her shoulder, she headed for the door laughing. "Yeah well, I have my hard ass rep to protect. Congratulations on your bladder infection and on second thought…get your own damn juice."

"Thanks!"

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****12:50 p.m. **

When Carrie returned to the bedroom she saw Nick stripped down to his boxer briefs curled up on top of the bed waiting for her. "Sorry, Honey, but I really had to go."

"No problem." Sipping her glass of ice water she headed for the bed. "We both know iced tea races through you."

Now that he was drained, he was suddenly thirsty. "Can I have a sip of your water?"

"Sure." After smiling sweetly she gulped down the contents of her glass. "Oops. How rude."

"You did that on purpose to get me back for jumping in the john ahead of you." Fixated on his thirst he climbed out of bed laughing. "I'll get my own damn water."

**r.bar.cafe  
****12:55 p.m. **

At first when Tawny bolted out of the restaurant Greg worried that lunch would be ruined. Now however, after listening to Grissom sing his praises for twenty minutes, he couldn't imagine a better twist of fate. "Really, Gris, you're being too generous," Greg humbly announced while hoping it prompted his mentor to vehemently deny the accusation.

"Not at all," Gil confidently disagreed. "I can't speak highly enough about you, Greg, that's why last night when I offered my townhouse rent-free for six months I felt justifiably…."

"Greg, you told me you were leasing the townhouse." Scott turned to his son for an explanation.

"Uh…" Greg lowered his fork. "I will be leasing it, _after _the first six months free. Right, Gris?"

"Yes." Gil felt obligated to help out. "I insisted on the terms. It's been impossible to find _responsible _renters and I didn't want the place sitting empty. Sara and I both have a soft spot for Tawny. So, knowing Greg and Tawny fell in love so quickly and consequently didn't have time to save up for a nice place, we let them have it for free the first six months and then…"

"Greg!" Scott chided his son. "How could you take the man's generosity when you have thirty grand saved? Did you lie to him? Or wait…were you lying to me?"

"Thirty grand?" Gil spoke in shock. "You told me you didn't have five hundred bucks to your name last week." Had Greg been playing him all along? "Were you lying?"

"Uh…" Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans Greg jittered a response, "I didn't have five hundred bucks to my name _last week,_ but _last night_…uh…Tawny and I were at the Riveria and won the progressive, which coincidentally ended up being just a tad less than thirty grand. So…I wasn't lying to either of you…um…actually. I have thirty grand saved as of four a.m. this morning."

Scott rubbed his temples. "I knew it was all too good to be true. Is there anything else you've embellished, Son? Christ, did you type up that letter saying your paper would be published? Talk about seems like old times."

"What? NO!" Greg felt the positive vibe rapidly deteriorating. "The paper's legit!"

"You're getting published!" Gil excitedly asked, "The paper on the Rodgers case? PCR DNA technology and degraded evidence?"

"Yes!" Forgetting his father's disappointment for a moment, Greg rejoiced with his pseudo-father. "I'm so stoked!"

"That's fantastic." Gil beamed with the pride of a proud papa. He had encouraged Greg to write the paper and spent countless hours critiquing it with him to achieve what he thought was the perfect final product. "I knew that one would do it for you."

"Excuse me," Scott interrupted the celebration. "I'd like to jump back a minute if the two of you don't mind. I'm going to ask you one more time, Greg. Is there anything else you need to clarify for me? Is Tawny really your girlfriend or is she your beard? Just tell me the truth. That's all I ever want from you, but you insist on making up stories and…is your mother in on this charade? Because she was acting awfully weird when she returned from Vegas…she is isn't she? Son…how many times do I have to tell you, I don't care if you're gay? For once could you and your mother not hide something from me? Just be a man and tell me the truth."

Greg blurted, "For the last time, I'm not gay. You're _still_ hung up over the pirate shirts and eyeliner, aren't you? I_ swear _Tawny really is my girlfriend! Gris…you've seen me kiss her. Tell my dad!"

Gil immediately answered truthfully, "Actually, have I seen you kiss her, Greg? I don't think I have. But you know…no one saw me kiss my wife in public until last night, so I don't see the relevance. Public displays of affection are…wait, I do remember you kissing her last night. Yes." He turned to Scott. "And he even played a special song for her. What was it, Greg?"

"A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes!"

"It was sweet." Gil smiled while he felt like strangling Greg as well as his own father for suggesting this ruse in the first place. "And since I'm the one who introduced them to each other, I can assure you they hit it off immediately."

Scott piped up again. "_You _introduced them? Greg told me he bumped into her at The Cheesecake Factory."

"Uh…that's true. We were at The Cheesecake Factory and I knew Tawny from dining there previously. Greg was instantly smitten with her, and Tawny was equally grateful for his attention." If his father were here, Gil knew he would have just gotten a pat on the back for operating so smoothly within the gray.

Feeling back in control Greg pointed out, "See, Dad…I didn't lie…you didn't ask if I was paying for the first six months rent and you didn't ask how long it took me to save the money. You asked me if my paper is really being published, if I'm gay and if Tawny is really my girlfriend. I've answered those questions truthfully and Gris has backed me up." Greg took a deep breath in. "Okay? All your concerns have been addressed, so can we chill now?"

After blowing out a trapped breath, Scott smiled. "Forgive us, Gil. Greg and I have some baggage when it comes to covering up the truth. I didn't mean to drag you in."

"Trust me, I can empathize when it comes to the intricate dynamic between fathers and sons." He gave a nervous laugh. "And that vast knowledge pales in comparison to my familiarity regarding the dynamic between overprotective mothers and their only child."

Scott stared at Greg. "Yes…we know all about that one in our family too. Don't we, son? Especially how overprotective mothers will go to extremes to hide things about their sons?"

"So we're cool, right Dad?" Greg forced a smile while his gut twisted. "All the cards are on the table."

Gil gawked at the boy in shock that he wasn't using the opportunity to come clean about Tawny's pregnancy. Suddenly he saw a distinct personality similarity between Jim Brass and Greg Sanders…a penchant for avoidance when granted a temporary reprieve. And like he was certain it would bite Jim in the ass, he saw the same writing on the wall for Greg. But it wasn't his place to speak up and stop the insanity.

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****1:02 p.m.**

When Nick returned to the bedroom he wasn't only hydrated, he was carrying a deliciously decadent chocolate brownie. Normally the sugary carb-based treat wouldn't have enticed him, but he knew Carrie brought the brownies home because she was due to get her period and was craving chocolate. "Mmm…this is good," He announced after devouring half.

"Oh please." Lifting her eyes from her In Style Magazine she laughed, "As if I didn't know the only reason you're eating that is to make me want it. Better be careful, Stokes. Your biceps might disappear if you suck down that many carbs in one day."

"You're right." Standing at the foot of the bed he extended the chocolate snack. "You can have the rest." But when she went to snatch it he shoved it in his mouth.

"I'll just go get my own." Jumping out of bed she headed for the door.

"That was the last one," He informed her as he smacked his lips. "I ate the other one in the kitchen. Since I'm not used to eating this crap, I'll mostly like be in a sugar coma twenty minutes from now, but it will be worth it. You should thank me for sparing your bloodstream."

Staring at him she mused, "Oh, please…sugar is poison? Yeah, I'm ready to take healthy living advice from a guy who chased down six beers with a bottle of tequila last night. Right after I take fashion advice from Chuckles." Shaking her head she left the room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm grabbing me a big 'ol sugar-filled Snickers bar from my briefcase."

**Presidential Suite A  
****1:07 p.m. **

Tawny lay on Ron Grissom's bed with a cool towel pressed to her forehead while Angelina sat on the edge next to her, and Ron stood nearby watching. For the last half hour she had answered their questions and shared most of her life story…explaining several times that they couldn't share any of it with Greg's dad.

"Feeling better?" Angelina asked in a motherly tone for the third time since the girl arrived. "Because suddenly you're looking much better."

"I'm not queasy anymore, just tired." Groaning she said, "Then again I thought I was fine until I smelled all that raw fish."

Ron took a seat in a chair. "I remember when Jillian was pregnant. Her hot button was coffee. It didn't matter what time of day it was, if she smelled strong coffee she was racing for somewhere to vomit. Morning sickness is a misnomer. Got so out of control once she dehydrated and I ended up taking her to the hospital, which was really bad because I didn't have enough cash to pay the bill. That was back in the dinosaur age my dear…pre-plastic. It was cash or nothing and debt wasn't acceptable. Kids today usually find that humorous."

"You were poor?" Tawny asked while finding it hard to fathom.

"So poor bologna sandwiches were a treat." He chuckled at the girl's mystified expression.

"When did you win the lottery?"

Angelina was thoroughly enjoying the moment and said, "He didn't win the lottery, he worked for it. Ask him what the name of his company is."

She happily played along. "What's the name of your company?"

"IHMD, Inc." He laughed every time he told someone because it seemed so ridiculous now. "I Hate My Daddy, Incorporated."

Angelina smiled brightly at the girl. "Guero, tell her why you hated your daddy so much. I think she'll like the story."

"When I was your age, I got Gil's mom pregnant out of wedlock, and when I went to my father for help, he told me to take her for a backwoods abortion. I refused. He disowned me and laughed in my face saying I'd come crawling back. I vowed to show him I didn't need his money. The day I finally had a million in the bank I formed IHMD and sent him a love note. Hating a parent is a fabulous motivational tool." He was certain his own son would agree.

"Wow." Tawny sat up in awe. "I really hate my mom, but I guess I haven't been channeling it properly, because I hate her so much I should have a mansion by now. Instead of dancing and waiting tables I should have started my own company."

Both smitten with the Cinderella-like quality of the young girl, Ron and Angelina exchanged smiles.

"Guero, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Kid…Lina and I like your spunk. And since I'm a sucker for a knocked up cutie whose guy is afraid of pissing off his daddy, I have a proposition for you." Ron stood and approached the bed. "How would like to work for me? Lina really. We had three people working for us in Boca, so have several staff positions to fill here in Vegas. What position can we offer her, Lina?"

"Assistant. It won't be glamorous…it's an entry level position. I say jump, you ask how high." Angelina spoke in a professional tone. "But I'm sure the salary will top what you're making waiting tables and the benefits are excellent."

"Really?" Tawny couldn't believe her luck. "But you barely know anything about me."

Ron clarified his reasoning. "I know my black and white son thinks enough about you to step into the gray on your behalf. That means you're pretty special. And having listened to you for thirty minutes I feel the same way. I always operate on gut instinct and my gut likes you too. What's the salary, Lina?"

"I know the salary for Boca, but I don't know what the pay is like here in Vegas." She stared at her employer.

Ron suggested, "Then add ten percent on top of the Boca salary just to be safe then. We don't want the offer to be insulting."

"Good plan." Angelina returned her gaze to the dazed girl's. "Thirty-one thousand."

"Dollars!" Tawny thought her head would explode from the intensity of her smile.

"Should I take your enthusiasm as a yes?"

"But I'm pregnant. What if…"

"We'll work around it," Lina instantly assured her.

"Yes!" Bursting with excitement she enthused, "I won't let you down! Is it okay if I start after Labor Day though because I have to finish out my schedule at the restaurant or I'll leave people stranded, and I already have the commitment to…"

"Absolutely," Ron confirmed. "I like a girl who sticks with her commitments. And don't worry about maternity leave, you get twelve weeks paid. It's a popular perk among women in my company."

"Thank you!"

The ring of the phone halted the hysteria.

Ron hustled to grab it. "It's probably Gil telling me he's on his way up."

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
1:12 p.m. **

When Carrie entered the bedroom she said, "Ready to get some sleep?"

Nick dropped his Sports Illustrated and stared at her. "Well…I'm wired from messin' with you and eating all that chocolate."

Before slipping into bed she stripped down to her turquoise lace bra and panties and grabbed the remote from Nick's nightstand. "There's a ballgame on. Wanna watch it?"

"Sure." Smiling, he fluffed the pillows and got ready to snuggle.

Clicking on the TV, Carrie went right to The Romance Channel. "Then you better get out of here because A Walk in the Clouds is on and you hate this movie. If I remember correctly, you said you can't believe Keanu Reeves could be so cool in The Matrix and be such a sap in this chick flick."

"You tricked me."

"Uh…no…I told you there was a ballgame on and asked if you wanted to watch it." She giggled riotously. "I never said you could watch it _in here_. Better pay closer attention to the line of questioning next time. Didn't your lawyer mama teach you anything?" Pointing to the screen she sighed, "My favorite part is coming up soon…when they stomp the grapes."

Grabbing his pillow he huffed out to the living room to watch the game.

Counting the seconds, Carrie stuffed a pillow over her face so she wouldn't give herself away while cracking up. As predicted, twenty seconds later she heard Nick scream.

"What the? BLAKE!" Rushing back in the room he half-laughed, half-yelled, "You swiped the god-damn cable from the TV!"

"Sooooo naughty, aren't I?"

"That's it!" He pounced on the bed. "Roxie has given me more than enough shit to deserve her usual punishment." With that, he started tickling her mercilessly, sending her into a fit of tortured laughter. "Good thing you peed, woman, because you would have wet the bed by now."

On her stomach with him straddling her, she finally screamed, "Stop!"

"I suppose that works for tickling too." He relented but didn't move from his position.

"I can't believe it took me so long to think of that!" She laughed into the sheets. "I guess lack of sleep has made me a little slow on the uptake."

Covering her body with his he whispered in her ear. "Since I'm wired…"

"Slick Nick, are you feeling frisky from all that sugar racing through your veins?" She released another round of laughter. "I'll give you two choices…sex or the cable for the living room TV."

"I'll take the second one," He quipped as he climbed off her back. "You can stay in here and let your boy, Keanu get you hot."

"Too bad you moved from that position, Sport." Turning over onto her back she posed seductively and released a pouty sigh. "Because I was just thinking, after having so much fun last night changing things up from our standard missionary routine, I would have liked to have given that new position a try. I bet it's one of your favorites, but you were holding back because it wasn't sweet enough for a sensitive girl like me." And while Nick stood there realizing the totality of his loss, Carrie turned up the TV volume. "Oh look…Keanu is covered in grape juice and he's kissing Victoria with unbridled passion. OH! I love that! Look at him running his hands all over her eager body. OH! He's got her so hot…hell, he's got me hot. If only my guy didn't choose a silly TV cable over sex I'd be letting him ravage me right now!"

"You win! I lose! You're the champ! I'm the chump! All hail Carrie Blake! She is the best of the best. I am humbled by her shit-giving ability. I bow to the master. Hell, if you get tired of working for the DA, I'm sure Lady Heather would love to have you work for her." Then he pleaded, "With that said…can I change my mind and pick the first choice now?"

"No…you'll have to earn the privilege back." Patting the mattress she smirked, "Come here and watch the movie with me. If you make it ten minutes without making fun of Keanu's character, I'll consider your request."

Sliding behind her he joked, "I sure as hell hope this movie is on a channel with commercials."

"Nope."

"Damn." He snuggled closer, pressing his front to her back, hoping the reminder of his reward for good behavior would keep him focused on the task at hand. "Oh look at how nice and sensitive Keanu is being. He's such a swell guy."

"He's ending his marriage with his cheat of a wife."

"Well, he's being nice about it, isn't he?" He laughed into the nape of her neck. "Give the guy a break. Yeah…don't pick on my man Keanu in this movie. He's da bomb."

Shaking with laughter she dropped a bomb of her own. "Nine more commercial-free, Keanu-lovin', sap-filled minutes of chick flick for you to gush over."

"Holy hell, this better be worth it." He cringed, "Then again, I don't know if I'll have enough manhood left to ravage you if I keep up this Keanu sweet talk for nine more minutes."

**Presidential Suite A  
****1:20 p.m. **

When they entered the suite, Greg and Scott couldn't help but be impressed with the fine surroundings. Scott, of course, showed the appropriate level of decorum. Greg, on the other hand, yelled, "Whoa! Grissom, you never told me your daddy's name was Warbucks! Now THIS is a party suite." Seeing the older man, he called over, "Nice to meet you, Papa Gris! I'm your son's favorite CSI!" Next, he threw his arms around Tawny, hugging her tight. "I hope your friend is feeling better."

"Much!" Then she whispered in his ear, "And thank you for chomping on what I'm assuming is a dozen breath mints before coming anywhere near me."

"You know it." With that, he covered her mouth in a very intense, 'see dad, I looooove girls' kiss.

Scott extended his hand to Ron. "Scott Sanders. Nice to meet you and please, forgive my son, he stopped taking his meds years ago."

Gil laughed, "I wondered about that myself."

Ron chuckled, "Nice to meet you, Scott. Yeah, don't worry about the meds…I stopped taking mine too. I found they stunted my creativity. From what Tawny told me, your boy is quite a fantastic young man."

Angelina breezed into the center of the room and handed Tawny a packet. "Here are all the papers you need to complete."

Gil and Greg simultaneously said, "Papers to complete?"

Tawny was all too eager to explain the mysterious papers. "I finished my phone call a while ago. After that I was interviewing for a job position. I'm happy to announce I've been hired as an Assistant. No more waiting tables for me. I'll be working from Mr. Grissom's new house. And it's a huge pay raise and I'll have benefits for once in my life."

Thrilled to have Tawny working out of public view, Greg gave her a squeeze. "Congratulations, Sweetie!"

Gil glared at his father. "An Assistant? What exactly will she be assisting you with daily?"

Angelina jumped in. "She'll be assisting me assist him."

Floored that his father would insinuate himself into his friends' lives, Gil droned, "Dad…you're so needy you need an Assistant to assist your Assistant?"

"What can I say?" Ron grinned as he tossed up his arms. "I'm just a victim of my hard-earned money…pathetic and rich." He loved every minute of his son's discomfort.

Lina shoved her hands on her hips and set the record straight. "You don't think I actually get my hands dirty around here, do you, Gil? Your father may be my employer, but I'm the boss."

As Gil stared at his father and his…whatever she was technically and unrequitedly, he took comfort in knowing that his working relationship with Sara was no longer the most screwed up one he'd ever known.

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****1:28 p.m. **

With one minute to go, Carrie decided to let Nick off for good behavior. "Since you've managed to keep your mouth shut for that really sweet and sappy part, I'll cut the last minute off your punishment." The truth was she primed for some cloud-walking lovin' of her own.

The corners of her mouth curved up as she turned to face her good-sport of a guy. "And now I…" That's when she realized he was asleep…or maybe he was faking. "Nick?" She gave him a shove. "Nicky!"

"Huh?" His lids tried to open but quickly gave up as he rolled onto his back and returned to a deep slumber.

"Dammit! He's really asleep. He crashed from the sugar and the boredom." Carrie returned her gaze to the TV and the romantic movie that had successfully got her hot and bothered. "Well, Blake, this is fun…you're wired and horny and your man is…" That's when she heard it start. It happened whenever he was totally wiped out. "…snoring"

"Ugh!" Grabbing her pillow she headed to the living room to reconnect the cable and mull over some legal briefs. "Looks like I'm the big loser after all. It wouldn't be half as bad if I still had brownies in the kitchen!"

**Greg's Car  
****1:42 p.m. **

After walking Scott to his meager room at the Mandalay Bay, Greg and Tawny made a beeline out of there thinking God must truly protect good-hearted fools and grown children.

With no plans to see Mr. Sanders before he returned to California the next afternoon, they were thrilled to have kept the pregnancy hidden and preserved some respect…even after the truth about the townhouse and the thirty grand were revealed.

Because Greg was exhausted and had downed a Sunday shooter and two beers with his dad, Tawny climbed behind the wheel and Greg stuck to operating the stereo. "What do you want to hear?" He asked as he popped open his CD case.

"I want to hear you sing."

"I don't sing." Sensing she wasn't going to take that for an answer he explained, "I can sing. I choose not to sing. I mean, I'll sing along to stupid stuff like the Boom Boom song, but I don't ever _really_ sing. When I was thirteen I swore I would never sing for real again. Apparently I broke the rule after drinking way too much tequila."

"That's so stupid!" Tawny pulled out of the casino parking lot and stated her case. "Do you know how many people would kill to have a voice like yours?"

"Uh…you don't know how I almost got killed when the jocks at school found out I spent my weekends getting dressed up and singing soprano. Clay Aiken may be popular now…_with girls_, but he wasn't when I was in middle school. And I doubt the jocks at middle schools across the country were the ones text messaging American Idol votes." Dropping his head in his hands he groaned, "You could drop the guy kissing me knowledge, but you can't drop _singing_."

She gladly offered an alternative. "You don't have to sing for anyone else, just sing for me."

"It wasn't just the bullying, okay?" Slouching in his seat he relayed the rest of the ugliness. "My mother's a music teacher and from the time I was…I don't even know how old I was, three, four maybe, she had me singing places. At first people thought she was just a delusional mom who thinks her kid is talented, but she wasn't, I was quickly given that label most often responsible for psychosis…gifted…which I went on to be triply cursed with later in life, when I also got it for math and science. In music terms gifted meant I was invited to join this prestigious boys choir and be a soloist. Mom was ape over it all and loved singing and didn't mind being the center of attention….shocking, I know."

At a stop light she turned and smiled. "Not at all."

"Yeah well…when the kids at school found out and my life became a bigger living hell than it already was just from being a science nerd. My parents eventually put me in a different private school over it. But the real trauma wasn't the bullying, it was…" A tortured sigh escaped his lips. "When I said I wanted to quit the choir before moving to the new school, my dad supported my decision, but my mom was heartbroken…which of course killed me. Then they got into this huge argument. My dad accusing my mom of never letting him parent and saying she always put her interests ahead of what's best for me. My dad was worried about me…he didn't want to see me getting pummeled. My mom was delusional about what was really going on at school and she knew I loved singing so it was hard for her to hear I wanted to quit."

Since her eyes were on the road she couldn't see Greg's expression, but she could tell by his tone that the memory was still painful.

"My dad threw all this shit in her face…like saying as soon as I wanted to quit the swim team she was all for me quitting, but now that I wanted to quit singing it was a huge mistake. He blamed her for what was happening and said that maybe if she had listened to him and I had kept up swimming that the jocks wouldn't be picking on me because I would have been more balanced. My dad was all about balance. He also accused my mom of exploiting me and wanting to make me a freak so that she'd be the only friend and then she wouldn't have to share me."

"Yikes."

"Yeah...they both had valid points throughout the verbal smackdown, which of course they were having when I was in my room and could hear everything. Stuff like…my mom yelling, Greg stunk at swimming, so why keep at it when he can't excel? To which my dad replied, why should he only do things he's gifted at, why can't he just be average at something for once? Then hearing my mom cry…he's too talented to stop singing and my dad screaming at her…Greg's getting tortured at school because of you and you refuse to see it!" Shrugging he said, "He was right, I didn't have balance and was getting tortured, but my mom was right too…I didn't want to blend in with everyone…not that I even thought it was possible. Anyway, at the height of the ugliness…and I'm talking I seriously thought they would end up on Divorce Court by the end of this one, I marched into the room and lost it…screamed at them both saying I'd never sing again and I'd never play sports again so they could both shut up and go to hell. So there you have it…why this caged bird does_ not_ sing."

"Yeah…I stand by my original thought on the matter…" After she turned at a four-way stop she finished her thought. "…your refusal to sing is stupid."

Ticked by her comment he snarked, "Hey, way to be understanding. I'll keep that in mind the next time you ask me to open up about something."

"HEY NOW!" She burst into a huge grin. "How about giving me a chance to explain myself? Jeez…keep your shoes on, Pal and don't even think about opening the car door and running."

Busted, he laughed. "Hypocrisy is gonna cost me some cool points."

"I'll let you off with a warning." As she parked the car in their apartment's lot she continued her train of thought. "It's stupid not to sing to spite your parents, not when you loved it and you were great at it. I mean…that's exactly what I did after I ran away from home. I tossed away school when I was great at it and I purposely didn't pursue it again because of the memories attached to it. That is until you helped me get over that. Now that I have it back I feel so much better." Taking his hand she smiled sweetly. "And really…aren't you letting the bullies win…the ones at school and your parents…if you're not living the way you really want to? If you never want to sing to me that's fine…even though I think a guy singing to me is _incredibly sexy,_ but do you think you'll be able to sing to our baby? Because I stink and I don't want our kid to grow up thinking tone-deaf is normal."

His face creasing into a serene smile, Greg wished just for a moment he had a ring in his pocket. But since he didn't have one, he unbuckled his seat belt and demonstrated his love in a different way. Even though the scientist in him knew an embryo couldn't possibly hear, he leaned over, bringing his mouth to Tawny's belly and quietly began singing one of his childhood oldies that he thought would resonate well with his future wife. "Somewhere over the rainbow…way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby."

"Oh…Greg," She sniffled as her happiness mixed with her pregnancy hormones. His velvet voice caused an ecstatic smile to rise on her face as he continued to tenderly croon to their baby growing inside her.

"Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true."

"Greg!" She shrieked while tapping his back. "Stop!"

"What?" He popped up, returning to his seat. "First you beg me to sing and now…"

She pointed straight ahead. "It's Mrs. Krazelsmith…that nasty old lady from Apartment 110…the one with the psycho snarling cat…the one who always stares at me funny . She's been watching us out of her window. I think she thinks you were…um…down there, you know…I was looking pretty happy while you were singing."

"OH!" Seeing the crotchety neighbor in the window he gasped. "Wait…we're moving soon and I'm not going to let some nosy broad bully me from singing to my baby." So after taking a hearty swig from the water bottle Tawny had in the cup holder, he plastered a grin on his face, waved to the neighbor and dove headfirst into Tawny's lap.

"Someday I'll wish upon a star…"

After grinning in her neighbor's direction, Tawny reclined her seat and let Greg wow her…with his voice.

**Crime Lab  
****Gil Grissom's Office  
****1:58 p.m. **

Behind a closed door, sitting at her husband's desk, Sara continued to scan the computer listing in front of her while singing out loud…just in case anyone in the immediate vicinity of her uterus was listening.

When the ring of her cellphone interrupted her song, without checking the display she answered, "Sidle."

Gil's voice reflected his surprise. "I haven't heard you say that name in a long time. I got chills for a second thinking we weren't married and all this great stuff in my life has been nothing but a dream."

Smiling, she assured him, "It's been a dream, but quite real. Did you forget I use my maiden name at work? How did things go with your dad?"

"Talk about surreal. Unfortunately I have no time to tell you anything. I'm calling from outside of the gym. My session starts in two minutes and I'm thinking he's a stickler regarding punctuality. I just wanted to hear your voice and make sure everything was still…"

"All signs point in a positive direction." She flashed her widest smile yet. "Like a total dork I'm in your office singing out loud to the blastocyst while searching for a missing person listing on the computer. Am I losing it or what?"

"Embrace your inner-dork, Honey. Just make sure my office door is shut."

"It is." She grinned. "I'll be ready to massage your sore muscles when you get home."

"That really is my prime motivation for getting sore in the first place. Love you."

"Love you too." After clicking off the phone she returned her gaze to the computer screen and decided to take her dorkiness to an extreme by singing a real baby song to the blastocyst. "Twinkle, Twinkle little star…"

* * *

**Thanks for reading. If you have comments to share or questions feel free to review or email me from the author page or my homepage.**

**Maggs**


	2. Losing It Part 2

**Note:** An entire scene in this story had to be cut before posting here. It was cut because it uses an unacceptable format (internet chat transcript style). So this chapter will only appear in full on my homepage accessed through my author profile. The gist of the missing scene is alluded to in two paragraphs in this version. (You won't miss any new major plot details, just the comedy, some intimate information on their men,and the sense of growing friendship between the three women chatting...Sara, Carrie and Tawny.) Sorry, I couldn't re-write the whole thing!

Maggs

* * *

**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 73: Losing It – Part 2**

**August 21, 2005 (Day 121)  
****The Training Zone  
****2:31 p.m. **

When Greg breezed into The Training Zone, a private personal training gym in an upscale part of town, he saw the place was devoid of people except for Grissom lying on a mat in the back of the room with Irving poised over him. "I hope you didn't kill him!" Greg warned in the sternest tone he could muster. "Or you'll answer to me!" Then for proper tough-guy effect he tossed his CD case on the reception desk and tightly folded his arms across the front of his lavender t-shirt.

From his splayed position on the floor, Grissom, wearing gray sweatpants and a navy blue Forensics t-shirt, groaned, "Just when I thought this experience couldn't get any worse. Why is he here? Greg, I just saw you an hour ago. Stop following me."

"Sorry, Gris. Irving told me to come by this afternoon." He shrugged. "I didn't mention it at lunch because I didn't want my dad to know I was doing anything remotely athletic."

"It's my fault." Shaking his head at the clown Irving explained, "I ran into your little pal at The Riveria last night. Turns out he hasn't been paying attention in Anger Management class. I bailed him out before he got into a fight with one of his co-workers."

Snapping to a sitting position Grissom yelled, "What! WHO!"

Backing up toward the door Greg said, "You were right…I shouldn't intrude on your session. I'll…"

"FREEZE!" Irving shouted and immediately got his request granted. "Get over here and answer the man's question. I think he deserves an answer after bailing your sorry ass out the first time you got into a fight. And I already told you my feelings on the matter."

When Greg reached the middle of the small gym he hung his head and mumbled, "Hodges and his cronies…again."

"What is with the two of you!" Grissom stared at Greg, waiting for an answer that didn't come.

Irving answered for Greg, "One of them called Tawny a bitch."

"And a HO!" Greg wanted to make sure Grissom understood the gravity of the situation. "I swear I wasn't gonna fight him. We were in the casino! You know…eyes in the sky."

"No, you weren't gonna fight him," Irving groaned. "You were going to hit the floor the first time that big guy…"

"Craig."

"…nailed you in the jaw." Irving glanced down at Grissom. "In all fairness…I've known Tawny since she was 18. She's a great girl, but she's got that dangerous combination going on…she's a looker and a bit of a hothead. Greg was trying to diffuse the situation…_albeit poorly_. Tawny jumped up and told the guy to get lost and then she kicked him in the shin when he was dogging on Greg. Then Craig called her a bitch."

"And a HO!" Greg got pissed every time he thought about it, but after taking a cleansing breath he clarified, "For the record…Hodges was trying to walk away. Craig was wasted and was looking for a fight. So there won't be a problem at work between us. Okay? We're on different shifts now and we've been keeping a healthy distance. When we have to interact it's professional. I promise there won't be a problem."

"Fine." Rubbing his open palms over his face Grissom moaned," But do you have any idea how bad it would have looked for the lab if you got into a fight after leaving my home intoxicated? I'm really disappointed in you, Greg."

"Sorry." Staring at the man he respected greatly he remarked in a deflated tone, "I had a rough time after I left your house last night. I wasn't feeling very well on the way home so Brass offered me the use of his restroom." Narrowing his eyes he dropped the hint, "I was surprised to find out something when I was there…the answer to a little mystery. I guess it left me a little edgy."

Irving watched the two guys stare each other down for a moment and then commented, "Time is money people. Are we working out or having a staring contest?"

Grissom nodded. "Working out…together."

"Thanks." Greg's smile returned.

Irving feigned a sniffle. "I have no idea what just happened, but I'm verklempt." Then he dropped the act. "Up off your ass, Gil. I want another ten minutes on the recumbent bike before we hit your upper body. Greg…give me ten on the treadmill to get the blood flowin' before we work, because I don't want any of those tiny muscles of yours to get pulled. Set it at 4.0 to start."

Holding up his hand like he was trying to get the attention of a classroom teacher Greg said, "Do you mind if I pop in my own tunes? Because Incubus doesn't work for me like it does for my jock pal Nick and those of his iron-pumping ilk. I think you should consider matching the music to your clientele."

Grissom felt compelled to chime in. "He has an obsession about matching up things. He once shared with me his very intricate method for selecting condoms based on the personality attributes of the girl." He gave a quick eye roll. "Obviously he forgot to make a selection for Tawny."

Raising his brow Greg countered, "I beg to differ, Master. Selecting no condom was still making a selection. Considering Tawny's life and my life now, compared to two months ago…I'm thinking my selection was the perfect choice for her and myself as well."

"Time will tell I suppose." On his feet, Grissom smiled, "Irving, when it comes to selecting music to fit a mood, I will have to bow to Greg."

Already back to his old chipper self, Greg teased his mentor while walking over to the reception desk to retrieve his CD case. "I take it Butterflyz worked out for you? You don't have to answer…I can see it written all over your face, Bluff Meister."

"For your information…" Irving crossed the room and popped open the stereo cabinet. "I have a full selection of musical options from which my clients can choose. Gil didn't ask for anything specific. My default selection is Incubus for its muscle head connotation." He pointed to the four racks of CDs. "Never assume."

Waving his own CD case full of tunes Greg inquired, "Do you have Chemical Brothers – Dig Your Own Hole? By the way, I'm a Chemist by trade."

"And a lunatic by nature." Irving grinned. "Let me guess your favorite…_The Private Psychedelic Reel_?"

"Absolutely." Greg watched him pull the CD from the rack. "Got some Crystal Method?"

That caught Grissom's ear as he pedaled. "Excuse me?"

"You chill now, Double D." Greg laughed at the name he hadn't called him in a while. "_The_ Crystal Meth_od_…they're a group."

"I've only got Tweekend."

"Play PHD for Gris, he's got two of them, but do me a favor and program out Ten Miles Back, because my child was conceived to that song so it's special and I don't want to relive the moment with the two of you. Yeah…that's a factoid I did not mean to blurt."

Grissom choked on his laughter. "How ironic since _ten miles back_ is where you left your box of condoms at Walgreens."

Irving was busting a gut too, but for a different reason. "Gil, I take it you've never heard the song?"

"No."

Greg knew what was coming and rolled with the punches.

Irving composed himself long enough to explain. "It only has a handful of lyrics throughout the seven minutes of techno grind. It starts off with, _here it comes _repeated a few times, then for five minutes it repeats, _you're unaware – ya keep moving_ until it ends with _there you go – such a nervous mistake of mine_."

After laughing at that slice of irony, Grissom couldn't help but smile at the thought that his own child was potentially conceived during the flu-sex desperation playing of Habenera. If it wasn't then, the alternative was the Captain of Flight 140 from Tahoe to Vegas announcing they were at 30,000 feet. He chose to stick with the seductive gypsy song scenario.

"Thanks for ruining that song for me, Greg. Too bad Blowout isn't before Ten Miles Back on that CD, you might have been spared." Once he was done programming the music Irving pulled grabbed a clip board. "Now sign this paper, Mr. Responsibility."

"What am I signing?"

"A release to train you," He explained as he loaded the first two CDs. "You're verifying that you passed your last medical exam…luckily I only need to confirm you're physically sound and not mentally fit."

Grissom thought he should assure Irving. "He actually passed the department psychological profile with flying colors and he's firearm certified."

Irving deadpanned, "Thanks for shattering my faith in the County, Gil."

Greg handed over the clipboard. "Here you go, Big Guy." Feeling comfortable that Irving was a man of taste, Greg set his own music stash down on the top of the cabinet and made a beeline for the treadmill. Once there, he tossed off his bulky black sweatpants to reveal a pair of gray gym shorts and twigs for legs. "How about some Fatboy Slim to round things off?"

"Let me guess…Better Livin' through Chemistry, Chemist?"

"_Punk to Funk_, my Man…play it twice, so this punk gets funked to get pumped."

After seeing Greg's legs Irving chuckled. "Pumped is what you'll be after a few months with me, _Twiggy_. Gil, you don't mind transferring twenty of your pounds to the Walking Stick, do you?"

"Thanks for the bug reference, Irving," Grissom panted from the bike. "He can have all twenty."

"Great. See…the two of you are scientists, but I'm a magician." Irving leaned on the front bar of the treadmill and upped the speed to 5.0. "Those twenty pounds are going to be magically transformed from fat to muscle by the time they disappear off you, Gil, and land on you, Greggy. Tawny will owe me for that, she can add it to the list she started back in 2000."

Greg picked up the pace and plastered on a grin. "Think you can complete your trick in two weeks so when I take Tawny to California, and have to lie by the country club pool with her, I'm ripped?"

"I said I was a magician, not God."

Gil laughed while knowing it was a bad idea.

"You think that's funny, _Fluffy_?" Irving shook his head. "Now boys…" He leaned against the wall so he could watch his victims sweat. "As of this moment…bad carbs are the enemy. No refined sugar…no white flour…no processed garbage of any kind, got it? You see a donut at the police station you should react like you just saw Satan personified."

Greg informed the maniacal man, "Fear not, I shunned donuts weeks ago." He heard Grissom's muffled laughed and joined in.

"Now, Greg…" Irving walked over and feeling confident that Greg could handle it, he notched the treadmill to 6.5. "…if you do my _6-pack or death_ _Abs workout_ daily until California and eat a 30, 50, 20 balance of complex carbs, protein and fat, you might not be too embarrassed to take off your shirt by the pool, and if you're wearing that shirt I think it would be an improvement no matter what." Glancing at the pale lavender tee, he commented, "I think I'll be including some buff-guy fashion advice in your 2-week California training program as well."

"As long as I can wear my polka-dot boxers underneath and be true to myself." When the two men stared at him he snapped, "Tawny likes them."

Irving returned to his diatribe. "An hour of cardio every day because this isn't only about muscles. The two of you are on the street sometimes in dangerous situations. You need some stamina."

"If sex counts…" A wild grin formed on Greg's face even though he was breathing hard. "…put me down for two hours a day. You'll probably have to come up with something different for Grissom though…you know…because he's older."

Irving notched the tread to 7.5. "You're going to be so sore and exhausted Tawny could shake it and beg you to ravage her but the only thing you'll be able to do is whimper _maybe some other time_."

Greg breathlessly commented, "I don't see why the lady has to be punished."

Grissom voiced his concern as well. "If you intend to put me in the same state then I must say…the boy has a point."

Laughing at the panicked men, Irving waltzed over to his desk and grabbed a couple of pamphlets. "Take these home to the women. After they read them they won't mind waiting. There's a bunch of before and after shots and statistics. Things like…how every extra ten pounds of belly fat on a man results in a half inch less …"

"Got it!" Grissom nodded and pedaled faster.

His brain always analyzing, Greg posited, "So if I'm twenty pounds UNDERweight does that mean it feels like she's getting an extra inch?" He immediately clarified. "Not that there isn't enough naturally, I'm just curious…because I'm a scientist…and scientist are always curious."

Irving appreciated the humor. "Doesn't work that way." He laughed. "If it did, every guy would be walking around emaciated." Then he noticed Greg looked flummoxed. "You alright?" He started decreasing the tread speed.

"I'm uh…just tasting the oyster shooter and beers I sucked down before coming here."

Grissom immediately prepared for the worst. "You should know his current nickname at work is Weak Guts. I'd hand him a trash can if I were you, Irving."

"No squishy food or booze before working out you idiot." Irving brought the treadmill to a slow halt and helped Greg off the equipment. "I don't want to see those oysters so you better hold 'em back." Grabbing an Altoid he barked, "Deep breath…swallow hard…suck on this mint, and think about something else."

"Maybe Irving can accompany you in the field, Greg."

Swallowing hard he nodded. "I'll carry his burly picture in my kit and take it out when I feel like I'm about to lose it."

**Catherine's House  
****3:04 p.m. **

After returning from Church around one-thirty, Warrick, Catherine and Lindsay got right down to the business of packing. They would be moving into their new house in a week, and everyone was excited to box up their belongings and start the new adventure as a family. Unfortunately, just before three o'clock, Warrick was paged to go into work for what he figured would be a couple of hours. So now mother and daughter were left to do the work.

Standing on a small ladder, Catherine struggled to reach the top shelf in her walk-in closet. "Isn't it great having someone tall in the house, Lindsay? You never really know what a blessing it is until they're not here to reach something for you."

From her position sitting on the floor packing her mother's shoes Lindsay scoffed, "Yeah…I figured that's the reason you kept him around…height."

She appreciated her daughter's sense of humor…mostly because it was so much like hers. "Wow." Catherine remarked in surprise when she grabbed a small box from the further corner of her closet's top shelf. "I forgot about this."

"What is it?" The curious teen watched her mom step down the ladder with a dust-covered box.

"Stuff your dad gave me." Taking a seat on the floor next to her daughter, Catherine leaned against the wall and let out a sigh big enough to blow some dust off the top of the box.

"Is it stuff I can see?" Lindsay cautiously asked, knowing some of her mom's life was pretty risqué.

"Sure. Not all of my life was a scandal, my dear." She popped open the lid and immediately broke into a bittersweet smile. "Oh boy." The pictures were a strong reminder of the good times before the bad times. "Look how young we were…and stupid."

"You're pregnant in that photo, mom." Lindsay's voice reflected her anxiety. "Are you saying you were stupid for bringing me into the world?"

"No!" Taking her daughter's hand she gave it a squeeze. "That's not what I meant at all. I meant we stupidly thought marriage would be a walk in the park. We didn't know how to work on it. I know what you're thinking...you weren't an accident! No…we planned you. " She smiled at her sometimes troublesome girl. "I didn't plan on you being so headstrong though."

"Like mother, like daughter." Lindsay slid closer and sat against the wall next to her mother. "I have my dad's eyes."

"Absolutely." Catherine stared at the photo and savored the happy memory. "Your father's eyes were what got me to marry him. The way he used to look at me back then…I would melt on the spot. I know it's hard to believe your dad and me were happy once, but I want you to know that we were." Turning to her daughter, Catherine reached out and tucked a strand of Lindsay's hair behind an ear. "And we were crazy in love when we made you. You were the only good thing we ever did together, Linds."

Struggling not to cry she asked, "What else is in the box?"

Catherine pulled out a cassette. "Your dad used to make me tapes of his music. This one…" She handed the tape labeled only with an inked red heart, over to her daughter. "…it's a song he only sang to me…no one else." She shook her head. "Your father lied to me plenty about big stuff…like fidelity and money, but he never lied about only singing this song for me. Go figure."

"Will you let me hear it?"

"Sure, Honey."

"I'll be right back." She rushed off to get her portable stereo player.

While Lindsay was gone, Catherine continued rummaging through the carton of bittersweet memories…a box of faded dreams…a fairy tale gone wrong, the exception being the girl who was walking into the room with a boom box and a smile.

"Okay." Lindsay extended her hand palm up to accept the tape. Then, after putting the tape in the player, she returned to her place on the floor next to her mom and set the stereo on the floor in between them.

At first only the delicate strum of an acoustic guitar was all that they heard, but about forty seconds in, the ghost that haunted them both from time to time said, "This one's for you, Cat…it will always be only for you."

Catherine closed her eyes and slipped a little further down the wall and into the memory. As much as she hated her Ex over the years, there was no denying that when he recorded this tape nothing but love powered his voice.

Between hearing her deceased father's voice for the first time in three years and seeing the silent tears streaming down her mother's cheeks, Lindsay quickly became overwhelmed and a bit shocked at how fragile she still was when confronted with the loss of her dad. Instinctually she rested her head on her mother's shoulders and snuggled close. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Sweetie." She held her tight, knowing the moment was precious because headstrong daughters and controlling mothers don't often take comfort in each other's arms. "I wasn't lying, Linds…you can hear it in his voice, can't you? If only…"

"Yeah." It only made her cry harder and mourn, not the loss of her dad, but for the first time the loss of her mother's dream. It was a loss she never comprehended before, partly because it was easier to blame her mom and mostly because love between a man and woman was a complex emotion that she was only now beginning to understand. When the song ended she nervously asked, "But you're happy now too, right, Mom?"

After wiping away her tears she kissed the top of her daughter's head. "So happy, Sweetie."

Relieved, she took a deep breath. "Okay…good…me too."

**The Grissoms'  
****4:28 p.m. **

When Sara heard the automatic garage door activate she grabbed her fluffy pink robe to cover her freshly showered body and rushed from the bedroom to meet her husband…just in case she needed to help his sore ass out of the car.

Upon stepping through the interior door leading into the garage her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him slouched in the driver's seat of his Mercedes. "That bad, huh?" The car door was open and yet he wasn't moving.

"Help me," He joked as he tried to lift his shaky legs enough to fling them out the open car door. "And I thought going to therapy was bad. Baring my soul, while uncomfortable in its own right, is a cake walk compared to this. Oh…I said cake. Irving would probably yell at me for just talking about it."

Sara grabbed her exhausted husband's hand. "Jacuzzi or massage?"

He groaned his answer as he stood. "Massage. If I had the energy to grin I would."

"Good thing I harvested your seed when I did." She released a flurry of laughter. "Because I think getting you to give it up now would be more difficult than flu sex."

"That reminds me." He dropped his arm around her shoulder. "I have a pamphlet for you, from Irving."

"I'll read it when you pass out in five minutes."

Together they entered the house and slowly headed down the hall toward the bedroom. Once there, Sara escorted her husband to the bed and let him collapse against it.

"I love this bed," He rejoiced in a sigh.

While tugging off his shoes and socks Sara asked, "Do you have enough energy left to tell me about your visit with your dad? How was the house?"

"It wasn't _a house."_ Flipping onto his back he informed her, "It's 9000 square feet of excess! It even has an armored rifle range and a panic room. It's a mob mansion."

She laughed. "Nice symmetry since we live in a former mobster's house."

"I could only stay a half hour. It was too overwhelming." Dropping a hand on his forehead he sighed. "Not the house, but what it represented and things my father was saying. He told me he's not selling his mansion in Boca and then said he'd will it to our child. I can barely handle having him in my life and now I have to worry how he's going to corrupt my child. And speaking of corrupting children…get this!" Getting irritated, he found the energy to sit up. "He hired Tawny as his assistant. Well, Lina's actually."

"Hold up." Sara tried to figure out what she missed. "How does Tawny know your dad? Please tell me he wasn't a former customer of hers. And who is Lina?"

"Can you believe how crazy things can get in a few hours!" He crashed on the bed again. "Tawny and Greg were eating at the hotel with Greg's dad who is in town for a conference. Tawny had a nasty bout of morning sickness and was trying to hide it from Greg's dad because they're not ready to confess the baby news."

"Avoidance…never a good thing, as we both know."

Grissom cringed.

"So how did your dad factor in?"

"I found Tawny hurling in the lobby. My dad took her up to his suite while I went into the restaurant to lie on her behalf!" Shaking his now throbbing head he said, "She spends a half hour with him and she's hired by Lina, my dad's Household Manager. You'll love this…Lina is this gorgeous fifty-eight year old smart-ass who puts my dad in his place at every turn. They're crazy about each other but won't admit their feelings. My dad says he doesn't know what to do about it."

Taking a seat on the bed, Sara showed her amusement. "Like son, like father."

Unhappy to hear the truth he whimpered, "Can I have my massage now?"

"Turn over, Baby."

"That's usually my line," He quipped while yanking off his sweaty t-shirt and then rolling on his stomach. "I hope you don't mind…I stink."

"Hey…if you could have fertility sex with me when I was raging with the flu this is the least I can do."

Opening the drawer of her nightstand she grabbed a bottle of relaxing Eucalyptus Spearmint aromatherapy lotion. "I picked this out especially for the occasion."

"Thank you for thinking of my imminent suffering when shopping."

Smiling, she filled her palm with the fragrant white cream and then rubbed her hands together to warm it. "Tell me where it hurts, Baby." She straddled his thighs, placed her slicked hands on his shoulders and started kneading.

"Even my brain hurts because I had to listen to Greg half the time I was at the gym."

"Why was he there?" She chuckled lightly. "Did he follow you from the hotel? If he didn't have Tawny I'd be worried that Chuckles is crushing on you, Honey. After all…the men at Walgreens thought so."

Wincing from the pain of Sara's massage he explained, "No, Irving is training him too because last night after Greg and Tawny left here, they went to the Riviera and Greg almost got into another fight with Hodges and friends."

"What is with those two?" Sara wrinkled her brow, trying to recall a time when they weren't at each other throats.

"Hodges's friend called Tawny a bitch and a Ho after she kicked him in the shin and told him to leave Greg alone."

"She's a bit of a hothead."

"Irving said she's been that way since she was 18."

"What the hell?" She stopped her magic fingers. "I'm quitting my job and following you around because you're away from me for nine hours and you find out all this information and I feel so behind. Irving knows Tawny?" Now that she had ranted, Sara returned to working out her husband's knots. "Does Irving know your dad? Wait…I'm sure he'll end up training your dad too."

Gil managed to find the energy to laugh. "Irving was a bouncer where she danced when she first came to Vegas. Found out some interesting tidbits on her actually." His tone grew a little somber. "Made me glad to know she's happy now with Greg. Oh this is a good one…Greg now thinks it was a lucky break that he didn't have a condom with him on his first date with Tawny."

"Serendipity?" The left side of Sara's mouth curved. "He thinks getting her pregnant was meant to be?"

"Apparently." He closed his eyes while his wife continued to work her magic. "Predestined by the cosmos."

"Well, how can we argue with that considering we only got together because of the Mike Rodgers fiasco? I was just telling Jas about that today. How I wouldn't change a thing because we wouldn't be the same now if I hadn't met him and gone out with him."

Gil shuddered at the thought. "You'd feel differently if he had raped you that night. I know I would have."

Not willing to let him ruin her positive vibe she countered, "Mike raping me wasn't part of fate's plan. Anyway, it's behind us."

"I'm sorry." Turning over, Gil displaced her and when he did he pulled her into his arms. "I really regret saying that out loud." In a distant whispered he admitted, "I don't even like thinking it. It still fuels my nightmares from time to time. The _what ifs_ and the…"

"Hey there…" Brushing a kiss over his lips she whispered, "You rescuing me was exactly what fate had in mind for us…among other things." Gently she took his hand and placed it over her womb. "All signs are still positive." Again she kissed him, this time soft and slow until he returned it.

"I love you, Sara." Snuggling with her he let his eyelids close.

"I love you too."

**Greg and Tawny's Apartment  
****4:36 p.m. **

When she heard Greg turn off the shower, Tawny skipped into the bathroom. "Need help toweling off, Stud?" She teased.

Pushing the blue and white striped shower curtain aside he informed her, "I've got everything above the waist covered." Smirking, he tossed her a towel. "You can handle everything below."

Giggling, she caught the towel and then proceeded to twirl it up and snap it at his thigh. When he walked through the door a little while ago he looked like hell…now he still looked like hell, just a squeaky clean version of it.

"I feel like I'm back in middle school. Yeah…I'm spent from gym class and getting tortured in the locker room." Grinning he admitted, "But if my enemy had been a hot babe like you, I wouldn't have minded the towel snaps."

So she gave him one that was slightly more precipitous.

"Thank you, ma'am, may I have another!" He joked.

"You're enjoying this a little too much." She gave him one more snap and then laughed riotously. "I'm saying that based on the look on your face, because no other part of you is giving off a pleasure vibe."

Stepping out while wrapping a towel around his waist he confirmed her suspicions. "Yeah…if you thought you were gettin' lucky, forget it. EVERY muscle on my body is down for the count." He pecked her cheek as he cruised out of the bathroom on his way to the bedroom. "Sorry, Sweetie, I haven't slept in thirty-six hours, my father mentally exhausted me, Irving physically tore me apart, and now all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep until my alarm goes off at five tomorrow morning."

"Don't worry, I'm with ya. I was just teasing. I already have bottles of water for us on the nightstand and fresh sheets on the bed." She strolled into the room behind him and once there they both got dressed for bed in silence…Greg opting for green striped Abercrombie boxers and Tawny selected a pair of hot pink boy shorts with a tight white tee to go on top. "Music or TV?"

"Whatever you want because I have sixty more seconds awake tops," He replied as he yanked down the black and pink comforter Tawny had brought with her when she moved in that clashed horribly with his IKEA bed. "Hey, do you want to go shopping for new stuff for the townhouse tomorrow night? I'm looking forward to tossing our individual stuff and buying stuff that's ours Don't you like the sound of that…_our stuff_?"

"I do!" With the remote in hand and a smile on her face she slipped into bed and snuggled close, placing her head on his chest and facing the TV. "But I can't tomorrow night because I have plans to meet some friends at seven."

"Friends?" He placed his hand on her shoulder and began an insecurity-infused ramble. "Friends? You say that so cryptically. Not to sound possessive or anything...it's just…you haven't mentioned hanging out with friends since moving in with me, and…and now you answered friends without giving any names. So now I'm…wow…I do sound possessive. Or do I sound jealous? I bet Lady Heather would say I sound _controlling_, which I'm not...I just like to know where you're going, and who you're going out with…which really does sound controlling. But I just want to know in case there could be trouble. Not trouble in that I don't trust _you._ Because I do! Emphatically! I mean trouble like guys hitting on you. Because let's face it, you're gorgeous and what guy wouldn't want you? So it's only logical for me to worry if you're going out. Especially if you're going clubbing…well you wouldn't be doing that because you're pregnant…I mean, I guess you could as long as you don't have alcohol, but even if you're just drinking water you need to be careful that nobody slips anything into your water, because that happens all the time, and it would…see that's why you really shouldn't go clubbing, even with friends…not that I'm telling you what to do, because it's not my place, and you can do anything you want...well, except cheat on me of course, not that I think you would! What I'm trying to say is…"

"I'm meeting Sara and Carrie at the gym for a class." Grinning, she turned on the TV.

"Oh!" His smile returned. "That's really great. Great!"

Even though she couldn't see his face she knew he was smiling. "Next time just say, 'who are you going out with, Tawny?' instead of the other two hundred words."

"Good plan." Now mentally drained even more than before, he released a massive yawn. "So what are we watching?"

Tawny flipped around the channels until she settled on Discovery Health. "Birth Day is on!"

Greg's eyes already closed, he feigned enthusiasm. "Yay."

"I was watching one yesterday that scared the crap out of me. The baby's heart rate was falling and they had to rush the woman in for an emergency c-section. The baby almost died, but everything worked out in the end. I was bawling my eyes out of course." She intently watched the screen. "Look at that huge belly on that little woman. Do you think I'll get that big?" When an answer didn't come she glanced up and confirmed he was asleep. "Night, Chuckles."

**Sara's Home Office  
****4:52 p.m. **

Unable to sleep and not desiring to wake Gil, Sara decided to leave the bedroom to do a little online shopping. After logging on to her computer she signed onto AOL and checked her inbox. A friendly smile darted across her face when she saw she had one from CBlake.

_**Hi Sara,**_

_**I wanted to say, thanks again for the GREAT party. Sorry again for the pool house incident...although if you check, even with your highly sensitive equipment, you won't find any evidence of couch tainting! I have friends who know how to clean a scene ;-)**_

_**I'm awake and mulling over some briefs so if you're around and bored send me an IM. I'll be logged on as SlickNicksChick (HA! I'm such a naughty girl!).**_

_**Talk to you soon,**_

_**Carrie**_

After adding _SlickNicksChick_ to her buddy list, Sara, using the name _BabeOfBugMan,_sent an IM to Carrie and they began a wonderful conversation that led to some outrageously personal and funny moments about their men.

And just when they thought it couldn't get more fun, Tawny, logged in as _Hot4Chuckles,_appeared on Sara's buddy list. Carrie and Sara immediately invited her to join in therevealing conversation. That's when things turned even more bizarre and intimate!

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****5:21 p.m. **

When Carrie returned to the bedroom she found Nick in the same position he was in when she had left the room…and still snoring. Smiling she climbed onto the bed and grabbed his right hand, pulling him onto his side. She then slipped into his arms and released a comfort-laced sigh.

At that moment, Carrie was grateful for three things…that she didn't wake her exhausted fiancé from peaceful slumber…that his snoring mercifully ended…and that even though he was sound asleep, he had instinctively wrapped his arms around her tight, giving her the feeling of safety she cherished.

There, lying in her future husband's strong embrace, Carrie knew no matter how many books she ordered and things they tried, this position would always be her favorite.

**Greg's Apartment  
****5:25 p.m. **

After making yet another pregnancy-induced pit stop in the bathroom, Tawny breezed into the bedroom. Once there, she covered her mouth to avoid releasing the giggle building inside her. Just as she had told the girls he often did, Chuckles was releasing random thoughts out loud while he slept.

"Don't take your eyes off your water…yeah…there could be something in it….oysters…make you sick."

Approaching the bed she whispered, "Don't you worry, I'm not going clubbing, Chuckles, so no one is going to taint my water with oysters."

Lifting the comforter she slid into bed, snuggling up to her chatty clown and bringing her mouth within an inch of his ear. Then she tried something that had worked a few times over the weeks. "I love you, Baby." With a gleam in her eye she waited to see if her statement would produce any results.

"Oysters aren't good for the baby…I love my baby…with oysters on the side."

Smiling, she snuggled up close and relished the feeling of being loved…with oysters on the side.

**The Grissoms'  
****5:28 p.m. **

Having confirmed for probably the twentieth time in the last twelve hours that her cramps weren't producing anything but hope, Sara left the bathroom and breezed over to the bed. Much to her relief, her husband wasn't engaged in stress-induced teeth gnashing, but in serene slumber.

Burrowing under the comforter and sateen top sheet, Sara lay facing her husband, who was also lying on his side. Secure in their bed and in their home, it was hard for her to believe that only a year ago they were living apart and alone. This moment felt so right and natural, she wondered how they could have taken so long to think otherwise.

As she pondered her life, another twinge shot through her uterus. The wince of pain brought a smile to Sara's face as she celebrated that she and Gil hadn't taken too long to make the next important decision about their life together.

Caught up in the excitement, she imagined the same scene she was living but with a tiny baby sweetly cooing in between her and her husband. It was a boy. His name was Owen and he had his father's eyes. "I love you," She whispered to both her husband and the illusion, as her eyes gently closed.

Unlike in the past when she was living alone and often haunted when trying to fall asleep, Sara dozed quickly, comforted by that feeling she had searched for her whole life…security.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part3...someone is going to lose it. 

**Posting:** Sunday, May 1st

**Thanks for reading. If you have comments to share or questions feel free to review, or email me from the author page or my homepage link.**

_Maggs_


	3. Losing It Part 3

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 74: Losing It – Part 3**

**August 22, 2005 (Day 122)  
****The Grissoms'  
****6:13 a.m. **

While Sara was standing in front of the bathroom mirror spraying her hair, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at her husband, who was touching up his beard. "Sooo…ready for your first day on the job, Master Criminalist Grissom?"

"I was wondering when you were going to start teasing me about that," He complacently commented as he set down his razor and brushed a few whiskers off his amber button-down short-sleeved shirt.

"The waiting is over." Lightly laughing, she tucked her hair behind her ears. "How do I look? Do I look wonderful enough to be the wife of The Master Criminalist?"

"Are you kidding?" He scoffed, "Who's going to look at you when _The Master Criminalist_ is walking down the hall?"

"OH!" She tossed her hairbrush at his head.

Ducking the flying brush Gil laughed, "Just seeing if you're awake this morning."

Grabbing the necklace she had selected to wear with her aqua v-neck fitted shirt, she clasped it around her neck. "I got eleven glorious hours of sleep so I have plenty of energy to tackle you if you launch another smart-ass comment my way."

"Yeah and I'm so sore from Irving's boot camp I wouldn't be able to defend myself, so I guess I'll be keeping my smart ass remarks to myself."

Watching him hobble out of the bathroom she couldn't stop her smirk. "You look like you rode a horse for a day. Quite the power image you'll be projecting today…Master."

Glancing back over his shoulder he posited, "Why do you get to be a smart ass, but not me?"

Staring at him like he couldn't figure out two plus two she replied, "Because I'm most likely gestating your progeny."

"Ahh…" He grabbed his birthday watch from the dresser. "So I'll be living this way for nine months."

Coming up from behind she slipped her arms around his waist and whispered in his ear, "And then I'll be able to say…I gave birth to your progeny. That should carry me for oh…a decade or two. Dontcha think?"

"Depends on the number of hours you spend in labor."

Her hands went to his shoulders and she gave a big squeeze.

"Damn!" The muscle pain was excruciating.

"Yeah…you can't handle that, but I'll be pushing the equivalent of a bowling ball out of my body." Giving one more squeeze she taunted, "Still not sure of your answer."

"_At least_ two decades."

**Greg's Apartment  
****6:22 a.m. **

Sitting at the kitchen island sipping from the mug full of Kona Diamond Tawny had poured for him a few minutes ago, Greg felt like a million bucks…which was an excellent deal for a guy who only had thirty grand to his name…especially when the thirty grand was from a lucky slot win.

Already dressed for work in a semi-conservative yellow and green striped button-down shirt and jeans, Greg mindlessly thumbed through the newspaper and enjoyed his coffee. And while he savored this peaceful moment, he rejoiced knowing that in twenty four hours he and Tawny had managed to double his salary for the year. And now with Tawny's new job working for Ron Grissom, things would actually be comfortable even with the baby on the way.

"Greg!"

Tawny's frantic shriek startled him enough to spill coffee all over the paper.

"Oh my god! Come here!"

"What!" He darted into the bedroom. "What's wrong!" When he got there he saw Tawny standing in front of the mirrored closet door with her little pink boy shorts tugged down slightly. "Look! I've got a little bulge!"

Clutching his chest he forced air into his lungs. "You scared me to death. Considering how sore I am I can't believe I flew in here that fast. Must have been the pure adrenaline rush from you freaking me out."

"Sorry." But she remained all smiles as she pointed to her teeny pooch.

Now that his pulse was dropping from the 100's, Greg was able to focus. "Are you sure that's not from scarfing all those Krispy Kremes my dad brought you? Because I couldn't help but notice they're gone."

"It's been so long since a man brought me donuts I got carried away." Reaching out she grabbed his hand and placed the palm of it on her bulge. "Feel it. You feel the difference."

He went from skeptic to believer in one touch. "It really is…" Surprised by his emotional reaction, he jittered a smile. "Wow. It's really happening. Until now it's only been something I could hear you tell me about, but this…I can feel."

Lifting her gaze she tenderly asked, "How does it feel?"

Honestly it felt 99 percent perfect, but he told her, "Awesome." Then in silence he chided himself for letting the one percent of imperfection ruin the moment.

Finally he understood why Tawny was so adamant about going through with the CVS test she had scheduled in two and a half weeks, even though it presented a tiny risk to the baby. He realized she must feel the same way… every exciting moment in this terrifying yet fantastic journey will be shadowed by one percent of melancholy, and when we're going through the most life-altering and wonderful experience of our lives, it should feel 100 percent right. Every thrilling statement shouldn't have an addendum…I felt our baby kick! Assuming of course, it's _our _baby.

"You're thinking it too." She sighed, "I can see it in your eyes. Everything shows up in your eyes, Greg."

"I'm so sorry." He pulled her close and smoothed his hands over her back. "My mind started wandering and…I'm ecstatic, I really am…I'm a little nervous that's all."

"Seventeen days."

"It's crazy, the things I'm saying lately." He laughed at himself as he bravely looked her in the eyes. "At the gym yesterday I was telling Gris and Irving that it was fate that made me show up at your place without protection because this was meant to be. Like saying that stuff out loud…I guess it's a subconscious attempt to convince myself the baby has to be mine. Which we know it's going to be and yet…"

"It's a dark cloud hanging over what should be the most joyous thing we ever do together, I know…"

The ring of the phone tempered the moment.

"That has to be your mom," Tawny sweetly remarked as she walked to the nightstand to grab the phone. "Nope…it says, ChemTech Resources."

"Hmm…." He took the phone and answered, "Greg Sanders."

"Mr. Sanders…just the man I was hoping to reach," The bold voice on the other end of the phone said. "I'm Gary Klein. I'm with ChemTech Resources, a staffing firm located in San Jose. I received a call from one of my contacts at Forensic Science Communications giving me a heads up about your soon to be published paper on PCR DNA technology."

"Okay…" Greg shrugged when Tawny mouthed _what's the call about_? "Do you have a question on my paper?"

"No, I have an offer I'd like to run by you. I'm trying to recruit a DNA Synthesis Chemist for a research firm in San Diego developing genetic analysis products and I have a feeling you might be an excellent fit."

"Oh…" He covered the phone and whispered, "He's a recruiter calling me about a job opening. Got my name from someone at the journal…"

"Mr. Sanders..."

"Yes, Sir…sorry." Greg winked at Tawny. "While I thank you for your interest I'm not looking to switch…"

"Ninety-Eight thousand dollars is the bottom of the salary range."

That caught Greg's ear. "Ninety-Eight thousand is _the bottom_."

"This isn't a county job, Mr. Sanders. The benefits are outstanding and they would fully fund a Ph.D. if you chose to pursue one…and considering your academic record I can't imagine why you wouldn't want to add it to your impressive list."

"Uh…"

The recruiter forged on. "I know it's early in the morning, but when I get a lead I like to pounce. Can we set up a time to talk in more detail?"

"Really I…" His gaze lowered to that tiny bulge above the waistband of Tawny's boy shorts. "How about e-mailing me some details? I'm on AOL…ChemPunk."

"Will do. Thanks for your time, Mr. Sanders."

When he clicked off the phone he shook his head. "That was wild."

"Ninety-eight thousand dollars?"

"Yeah…and benefits, including Ph.D sponsorship."

"Sorry…" She confidently stated, "Not enough to give up your dream. I know your fantasies, remember? And don't even think about selling out because of the baby."

"My dad would tell me I'm crazy."

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed she remarked, "Which is funny because you're finally doing exactly what your dad always wanted you to do."

"How so?" He sat next to her.

"You're doing something you're not naturally perfect at. You said it yourself, that's what he always wanted…for you to be average and have to work to improve and be great at it. School was a breeze. You could phone it in when you worked in the lab. You'd be sleepwalking at this fancy company." Capturing his eyes she said, "You're in the right job because you're finally learning what it feels like to work for something, and your dad was right…it feels great. Anyone can take the easy way out, Greg…you didn't opt to do that when I first told you about the baby. You're just not that kind of guy. I love that about you. Don't change."

A smile found its way to his lips. "Thank you for that."

"Now you better get your butt out of here or Nick will fire you for being late." She pecked his lips. "Have a good day."

"How can I not with a beginning like this?"

**Carrie and Nick's Apartment  
****6:40 a.m. **

When Nick woke up at five that morning after getting fifteen hours of rejuvenating sleep he was happy to find Carrie curled up in his arms. So happy that he decided to rouse her with a flurry of kisses to her neck until she was awake enough to hear him proclaim his happiness.

Having been peacefully stirred from eleven hours of serene slumber in the best of ways, Carrie woke in a fantastic mood. When she turned to meet her fiancé's eyes the love between them flowed. And at that moment, both wanted nothing more than to launch into the throes of passion. That's when they simultaneously realized neither had brushed their teeth before heading to bed the previous day and…they both had to pee. Having learned from his mistake the day before, Nick let Carrie have the master bathroom and he hurried to the guest powder room.

After taking care of all their hygiene needs they returned to the exact same position in bed for Take Two of _waking in each other's arms_ and successfully segued into _nothing beats a little pre-dawn lovin'_. With her books from Amazon still being packaged for shipping in Topeka, Kansas, Carrie wasn't ready to initiate something new, so she told Nick he was in charge and after fifteen hours of rest he was happy to oblige.

Now, eighty minutes later they were rushing to get to work on time.

Nick raced to the closet to grab a shirt, selecting a beige pullover. "If Greggo gets there before me I'll never hear the end of it because I've already lectured him on punctuality twice."

Carrie laughed to herself thinking…and Sara will assume it's because I had you locked in the bedroom.

**Crime Lab  
7****:00 a.m. **

Pete, Jas, Greg and Sara sat around the conference table waiting for their now tardy boss.

"That's it!" Greg pointed to his green Fossil watch. "Boss man's late."

Looking through the glass walled room Jas confirmed, "Not even in sight. Are we going to give him the ten-minute Professor courtesy wait?"

"I thought it was fifteen?" Pete elaborated with a self-mocking statement. "Or is that because I'm out of touch at thirty-six and you, being only twenty-four, know times have changed? Just another example of you being too hip for me, Jazzy."

Having enjoyed several moments like this with Pete over the last couple of weeks Jas replied, "You know it."

Sara noted the obvious flirt as a smile formed on her lips. _This is what Gil and I must have looked like when we were in the chemistry-denial stage._

Greg jumped in to clarify the rule. "When I was in school it depended on the college degree the instructor held. It was ten if he had a Bachelor's…which was pretty unheard of where I went, fifteen for a Master's and twenty for a Ph.D."

"So we have to wait seven more minutes…" Sara confirmed, "…because Nick had only mastered one thing as a bachelor, and he didn't go to college for it, he went to charm school."

The group cracked up and as they attempted to recover the boss hustled into the room at 7:05.

"I'm really sorry guys," Nick apologized in a tone profuse with embarrassment as he took a seat and opened his portfolio. "No excuses. Won't happen again."

Greg tried to keep his mouth shut, but failed. "Maybe we should just come in and start working like we did for Grissom, rather than starting every day with this conformist routine. Then, whenever you arrive, and after you handle the pressing matters a man of your responsibility faces, you can summon us for your daily pow-wow. That way we won't waste the County's money or lose productivity, and you as the boss, will have more flexibility in your schedule…as you should, being the top dog."

Pete, Jas and Sara waited with baited breath as Nick glared at Greg and worked to formulate a response.

Finally Nick snipped, "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Sanders. For the record since you're the newest member of the team, I've been late _once_ in the four months I've been shift supervisor…today…and only five minutes. If it ever becomes a habit, which I'm certain it won't, I'll consider your suggestion, but for now I plan on sticking to the _conformist routine_. If you'd like to discuss it further, we can do so later during your weekly one-on-one. I'd be happy to tack on some extra time after we finish reviewing your illustrious personnel file. Is that flexible enough for you?"

Feeling the bite of the Alpha male Greg quickly barked, "Works for me. Thanks."

Pete took the opportunity to have a little fun. "Personally, I enjoy the conformist morning routine. It helped us bond as a team, something we were sorely lacking prior to your arrival, Nick. Greg's only been on Days less than two weeks, so he hasn't come to appreciate the advantages of your management style. Once he does I'm sure he'll afford you the respect you deserve."

"Thank you, Pete." Nick cracked a grin. "For that very impressive load of bullshit you just dropped at my feet."

"Anytime, Sir." Pete burst out laughing. "Greggy thought I was serious."

"I was just kidding too!" Greg lied while joining in the group laughter. "Jeez, Nick, couldn't you tell?" He rolled his eyes. "No wonder you were the first one to lose at poker. You're not very good at reading people."

Under the table, Sara kicked Greg signaling that he should shut up. She used to do that when she could tell he was getting on Gil's last nerve.

Taking the hint Greg rubbed his hands together. "Sorry, I'm shutting up…just tell me what I'm working on, Boss."

"My last nerve." Grabbing his beeping pager, Nick read the message. "Ahhh…DB with all the trimmings." Grinning at Greg he happily announced, "You're coming with me, Weak Guts. I'm using this one toward your six-month CSI 1 assessment."

**Jim Brass's Office  
****7:15 a.m. **

Jim and Gil sat at the small round table in the corner of the office brainstorming a list of priorities for The Master Criminalist.

"The sky's the limit, Gil," Brass assured him. "As long as we stay within budget."

"Solve-rate has to go up if we're going to take back the number two spot. That takes manpower and…"

"Woman Power…" Sara added as she strolled over to the table. "Shouldn't _The Master _be expected to be more Zen and say People Power?" Once she had both men smiling Sara announced, "I'm actually here to tell you that Nick thought you might be interested in insinuating yourself into the case he just got. Vartann thinks it looks ritualistic."

Gil jumped from his seat and winced. "I keep forgetting I can barely move."

Brass rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you want your husband to turn into a muscle-bound steroid freak, Boom Boom. Aren't his money and intelligence enough for you? Do you really need the trifecta of perfection?"

"I'm a very greedy girl," she teased.

"Are you working the case?" Gil inquired of his wife.

"No," Sara chuckled. "Greg pissed off Nick at the morning rally by suggesting we do away with the conformist ritual. So now he's taking Greg hoping that Weak Guts will lose it."

Brass stood and caught Gil's eye. "Yeah…Sanders is definitely your boy…an independent thinking, non-conformist with no use for management or meetings, or the common sense to know when it's in his best interest to sit quietly at the feet of a bigger dog. I predict a rough ride for him over the years."

Gil unfurled a satisfied smile. "I couldn't be prouder." After winking at Sara he announced, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to insinuate myself in this case…and make sure my boy doesn't hurl on Nick's boots while working it."

Having just explained to Gil what happened at his apartment between Greg and Heather, Brass couldn't resist. "Yeah, rumor has it he's already ruined a pair or two of boots in this town!"

"I'll talk to you later, Jim," Gil groaned.

Sara smiled at Jim. "So you made it home safe with Tawny as your designated driver."

"My ears didn't make it," He joked while taking a seat behind his desk. "Prince Chuckles crooned a love song to Princess Tawny. I think the title was, Now That I Got You Preggers I Realize You're Mine Forever So Let's Make the Best of It, or something really romantic like that."

"You're such a sweetheart, Jim."

"Yeah."

As she headed out the door she teased by yelling back, "I hope your mystery woman knows she's one lucky lady."

Brass cringed as he committed the sin of omission once more.

**Nick's Tahoe  
****7:28 a.m. **

Once alone inside the vehicle with Greg, Nick snapped, "What the hell, Sanders?"

Jumping from the bark he blurted, "What did I do _now_? My kit is packed properly, I didn't track dirt in your truck, and I didn't go anywhere near your radio controls. What!"

"It's what you did before asshole!" He scolded. "As a friend you can tell me whatever the hell you want about my work style, when we're _alone._ And if you don't like my meetings and have a suggestion, great! Frame it properly and tell me at the appropriate time. But don't _ever_ undermine me in front of the team, because then I have no choice but to come down on your stupid ass and highlight the fact that you're a politically tone deaf idiot!"

"Oh that." He chomped on the corner of his bottom lip.

"Yes, _that!"_ Nick huffed. "Seriously…you don't have to absorb_ everything_ from Grissom. Play a little ball my friend, and you'll have an easier time in life…pick your battles and launch them when it's appropriate _and _more importantly, launch them when you have the greatest chance of winning them. You blindside your boss in a room full of his subordinates and make him look like a fool, you're getting shot down even if you're hawking the ultimate solution for world peace. That's how it works with me, with Brass, with the Sheriff, in Vegas, anywhere and everywhere. Got it?"

"Absorbed."

"Good." He started the truck.

With that behind them Greg impatiently inquired, "Now can I touch your stereo?"

"Yeah…put something on that will get you in the zone…the no-puke zone." Relaxing his expression Nick said, "Because you're going to have _a valid chance_ to make me look bad by proving I was wrong about you. Handle this case well and you've got bragging rights, Pal."

Greg pulled out the tin of Altoids he bought on the way in to work. "I have my trainer's mantra in my head…deep breath, swallow hard, suck on a mint and think about something else."

Nick laughed. "I'd leave out the deep breath part in certain circumstances or you won't see steps two, three and four before tossin' your cookies."

"Absorbed." He upped the radio volume when he heard Linkin Park's Points of Authority.

"You don't like Linkin Park."

"But you do." His mouth spread into a smile. "I'm playing a little ball…sucking up to the boss. When we arrive at the scene I fully intend to walk two feet behind you and offer to spit polish your boots in front of the cops."

Watching Greg head bang in jest, Nick groaned, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather work for Warrick? Word is he's only holding weekly meetings."

**Grissom's Tahoe  
****7:31 a.m. **

Driving behind Nick on the way to the scene, Gil remembered that Sara had an appointment with Dr. Myers today.

Grabbing his cellphone he punched her auto-dial number and waited for her to answer.

"Do you miss me already, Master Criminalist Grissom?"

"Yes…but that's not why I'm calling." As he spoke he continued following Nick's Tahoe to the scene. "When you go to Dr. Myers today can you cancel my appointments for this week? I'll need to rework them now that I'm working during the day."

"Are you sure you're not _avoiding?_ Because I work Days and adjust my schedule to fit in my appointments."

He knew that was coming and had his answer ready. "I'm only avoiding _this week_ because it's my first week on the job and I want to jump in with both feet and not have to explain why I'm taking personal time twice the first week. I'm keeping all my promises, Sara. I absolutely see the value in the sessions." Even though he was alone in the car he smiled. "Remember the steps I've taken as _the more open and available Gil Grissom_…I had a party at my house and didn't hide in the bedroom the whole time…I even had fun. And what about my relationship with my father… I had him over for dinner without strangling him, I toured his four million dollar mansion with him without shooting him in the armored firing range room, and lest we forget…I shook his hand and agreed to a fresh start. Lastly, just to prove how much more tolerant I've become, I haven't thought of killing Greg in weeks…now I just fantasize about removing his vocal chords."

By now she was chuckling into the phone. "That's a pretty decent progress report for a couple of weeks. I'll cancel your appointments for this week then you can call when you get a chance to adjust future ones."

"Thanks." He parked his truck behind Nick's, about 300 yards from the warehouse where the DB was located. "I'm at the scene so I'll talk to you later. Have a good session, Sweetheart."

"Thanks. Have fun insinuating yourself at Nick's crime scene. I'll be interested to know how he handles that, because I thought it was annoying when you did it to me last week, and he's an even bigger control freak."

As he emerged from his vehicle Grissom laughed at his wife's comment. "I'll let you know if he gets more ruffled by my presence than you. Talk to you later, Honey."

"Bye, Master G!"

Tucking his phone in his pocket he smiled and went around to the back of the truck to grab his kit.

"Hey, Gris!" Nick had a cocky grin on his face as he approached. "Take a look." He pointed to a cop, presumably a rookie based on his age and demeanor, who was purging the last of his stomach contents just beyond the crime scene tape. "Twenty bucks says Weak Guts unloads his breakfast."

"I'm in," Grissom immediately confirmed. "I say he holds it down."

Greg, holding a camera in one hand and his kit in the other, decided to get in on the action. "Boss, I've got twenty on me keeping it down. That is, if you're up for losing forty because, I feel an extraordinary amount of gut-fortitude this morning." How could he not after Tawny's ego-boosting comments that morning? He had something to prove.

"You're on, Greggo."

Vartann had seen the CSIs pulling up and crossed under the police tape just in time for the tail end of the conversation. "Sorry, guys, but I'm pretty sure Stokes is walking out of here with forty bucks." Feeling a little green around the gills himself he cautioned, "Phelps thinks the vic is five years old and what this psycho did to her sent every cop on the scene out for a breather and a phone call home to the wife to check on the kids. Let's just say I really hope you end up telling me she died first and the rest came later."

"Bets are off." Nick swallowed hard and informed Greg, "No bets when kids are involved. No jokes either."

Grissom's pulse began notching. "Do we know how long she's been dead?"

While watching Greg chomp a handful of breath mints Vartann answered, "Phelps is in there now trying to make the call. Looks pretty fresh to me and we don't have any missing person reports yet, so it could be that the family doesn't even know she's gone yet. It's summer…kids stay up later and sleep in. Hell of a conversation that's gonna be." Turning, he led the way. "Let's not waste any more time because I don't want the family, when they do miss her, to have to wait any longer than necessary to ID."

Nick held back Greg. "All kidding aside…if this is as bad as I'm imagining it and you get in there and know you're gonna lose it, don't wait and end up rushing out…you could taint the scene if you don't make it, and it will only look worse to the old timer cops hanging around. Understood?"

"Yes," He answered while staring at the ground.

"You take all the time you need." After giving him a supportive slap on the back Nick said, "Oh…and skip your plan to walk two feet behind me. Stay next to me and don't hesitate to ask questions or speak up if you need help."

Tightening the grip on his kit Greg started walking. "Thanks."

Up ahead, Grissom continued to pump Vartann for details. "Who found her?"

Holding the tape he waited for Nick and Greg to catch up. "The body was discovered by the guy who opens up the facility every morning…Derek Eckstrom. We already ran him. He's clean. He also agreed to provide a DNA sample when you got here. He's across the way in building 2 sitting on the floor curled in a ball. I have an officer with him, but frankly he needs a psychologist"

Greg worked to steady his breathing while trying not to imagine the nightmare only fifty yards away.

Nick calmly asked, "Did he see anyone else or notice any vehicles?"

"He said no, but he's still really shaken and I'm not even sure he heard the questions properly. I'd give it some time and see if he calms down a little more." At the entrance of the warehouse Vartann paused. "I'll stay out and give you some space. One of you come out and get me if you there are questions."

Greg knew that was another really bad sign In case he wasn't able to remember after walking in, he yanked out a pair of gloves and snapped them on.

Grissom step aside and heeded Sara's warning. "It's your case Nick. I'm a consultant and an observer. You are still the boss."

After a deep breath, Nick clicked on his flashlight, gripped his kit tighter and walked through the large open doorway of the furniture warehouse.

Greg and Grissom stayed only a step behind…

Grissom because he was already consumed by professional curiosity and an overwhelming desire to begin the process of nailing the bastard who would do the horror he predicted he would find.

Greg stayed close because he was terrified.

David Phelps looked over at the CSIs. "Welcome to the nightmare I'll be having for the rest of my life. You do know my wife and I are expecting a girl, right?"

In the center of the concrete floor was a beautifully ornate dollhouse crafted out of wood, the kind of dollhouse that unfolds to reveal the tiny rooms inside. There in the middle of the warehouse, it was left open and dolls as well as small pieces of furniture were carefully positioned within its six rooms.

Greg's and Grissom's eyes immediately focused on the dollhouse, both men sensing it was the key to understanding the crime. It also provided a temporary innocent distraction from looking at the bloody body of the tortured little girl who was still wearing a cute dress and whose head was covered in a black trash bag, cinched around her neck with a pink satin ribbon.

However, while Greg and Grissom stood one step behind their leader and continued intensely staring at the dollhouse they were unaware of the drama unfolding.

Glancing up from the victim's body, David Phelps called out, "Nick?" When he didn't get a response he shouted, "Hey, Nick!" Then he followed it up with, "Grissom! Make sure he doesn't pass out. I've never seen him react this way in the field."

The next sound was Nick's kit and flashlight thudding against the concrete floor.

"Nicky?" Grissom took a step forward and saw the color gone from his face and in its place was an expression he never recalled seeing before. "What's going on?" After lowering his kit he placed his hands on Nick's shoulders. "Nicky, come on…answer me."

After placing his kit and the camera on the floor, Greg stepped forward to face his boss and when he did, he was stunned to see him looking so out of it. "Whoa."

David left his position over the body and came closer. "He's in shock."

Not getting a response Grissom gave Nick a hard shake. "Snap out of it, Nicky."

The shake got a response…one mumbled word…"Coccinellidae."

Feeling his own emotions spiraling from watching his normally cool, calm and collected friend suddenly start losing his mind, Greg nervously remarked, "Coccinellidae, that's…"

"Latin for ladybug," Grissom answered.

David added, "They're on the vic's dress."

Nick began to ramble. "He said they were Coccinellidae…it's…she's okay…she looks…she's okay. She was playing with the dollhouse and fell asleep."

"I don't get it. He's seen worse and not flinched." Grissom turned to Greg, "Aside from the horror of the crime itself, do you have any idea why he's reacting this way? There has to be more…on the drive over did he…"

In a shaky voice he replied, "No, nothing. He was totally calm." Greg's discomfort rose exponentially. "This is freaking me out. I've never seen him like this. Snap him out of it." Then he wondered, was it something to do with Carrie's past? With Nick's own trauma? Post traumatic stress disorder? Was it the dollhouse? Did Carrie have a dollhouse? His mind continued to race.

"Nicky!" Grissom shouted in his face. "Look at me."

As the terror mounted within him, Nick's mind cycled toward a final decision…fight or flight. "Coccinellidae…Sean…he said they were Coccinellidae…the dress…they're on the dress…she's five…Vartann said the vic looked FIVE…THE DRESS…the bag…I can't see her face…she crossed the street…Oh GOD! There's blond hair sticking out of the bag…Carrie told her not to cross the street!" Then his brain sent the final answer. "NO!"

"Don't!" Grissom instinctively tried to block Nick from running toward the body, but was immediately shoved aside. "Stop him!"

"She's not dead!" Nick yelled as he pushed past Grissom.

Greg and David made an attempt to restrain their hysterical co-worker as Grissom shouted toward the door. "BACK UP NOW!"

"GET OFF ME!" Nick screamed as he easily fought his way free.

Two uniform cops raced in and saw David and Greg attempting to keep Nick from the body.

"Take him out of here!" Grissom shouted while trying to make sense of it all. The questions flew fast and furious. Why did he mention _Sean_?

"Gris!" Nick shouted as the cops forcibly grabbed him, dragging him from the body just as he reached it. "McKenna! Oh god…it's her dress! Gris!" Gasping for air, his knees gave out. "It's her hair! It's her favorite dress! She keeps wandering away…NO!"

Greg's whole body trembled as he helplessly watched the extreme scene. Stepping next to Grissom as the cops struggled to restrain Nick he whispered, "He knows who it is? Who is McKenna? Wait…isn't that Carrie's niece's name? I saw a photo of her when I was at Nick and Carrie's place." Closing his eyes he let his mind drift back in time and saw the photo clearly….a little girl…long blond curly hair…a beautiful smile.

The missing piece of the puzzle in place, Grissom's mind flooded with dread. "He thinks…" Whipping around he looked at the body. He had only seen McKenna once, two months ago, and with the head covered and the body bloody it was impossible to tell. From what he recalled the hair was an exact match and the dress was distinctive…red embroidered ladybugs, he had never seen one like it and surely would have remembered it if he had, but he wasn't around children very much he rationalized and it could be the most popular dress this summer. He knew first hand how the mind can play tricks in this situation. "Take him out of here now! NOW!" Grissom ordered as he pulled out his cellphone. "Get him someplace quiet. Greg, go with them!"

The cops were no longer having difficulty tempering Nick, because his mind had shifted from a fight response to anguish and his body was weak from the unexpected stress overload.

Once outside Nick desperately pleaded, "Let me go, I'm gonna be sick."

When they released him they blocked the entrance to the building in case he attempted to rush back in. Instead they saw him take off across the parking lot toward the other buildings.

All the cops outside the scene had heard the hysterics and now they were witnessing the normally unshakable Nick Stokes bolting from the scene. Lt. Domingo turned to his rookie and said, "If the scene tore down Stokes there's no need for you to feel bad about puking your guts out."

Greg followed in hot pursuit until Nick reached a large building and disappeared around the corner. Once there Greg gave a little distance and yelled, "I'm right around the corner if you need me."

The sound of Nick pounding his fists against the side of the building compelled Greg to check on him. He saw him bent over shaking uncontrollably and purging. The moment rocked him to the core. Nick was the unflappable pseudo-big brother and seeing him reduced to a quivering mess was shock to the system, much like the one he had recently, when he found Grissom crippled by a migraine in the backyard at the Pavlik crime scene.

When Nick was done emptying his stomach, he took a few steps back and crashed against the steel of the building, eventually sliding to the ground.

Greg stepped closer and knelt in front of him. "Try to hang in. It's not her. We'll get confirmation soon. The mind doesn't see things straight when it's in shock. Work through it with me…like you did with Sara when she thought the worst about the cave-in. What makes you think it's McKenna? Tell me and maybe I can help you see an alternative."

His knees to his chest, Nick fought to steady his breathing. "I saw her in that dress yesterday. Wendy said…" Emotion took his words for a moment. "McKenna never wants to take it off because…it's her…favorite dress." The world around him was spinning out of control and he fought to hang on. "She loves it…she couldn't wait to show me when…" Lost again, he couldn't find the strength to continue.

When Greg heard his cellphone ring he was grateful for the interruption and when he saw Grissom's name displayed he felt a combination of relief and terror.

"Answer it," Nick begged after forcing a gulp of air down his throat. "He knows if it's her or not." Then he lowered his head, praying it wasn't, while feeling horrible that it would still have to be someone's little girl.

"Go ahead, Grissom," Greg answered, while feeling grossly unprepared to deliver any message other than a positive one. Nick truly looked minutes away from total insanity, and Greg was certain if it was indeed McKenna, the shocking confirmation would send Nick careening over the edge.

"Where are you?" Grissom calmly inquired.

"On the side of the tallest building on the block." Asking for a location didn't bode well and Greg felt the all too familiar twinge of bile rising in his throat.

If Grissom was coming personally, Nick knew it wasn't good news. "Oh God no." In that split second he imagined the pain ing Carrie's eyes when he told her. He could already hear Wendy's heart wrenching sobs echoing in his head. Once again, life would be forever changed for Carrie and her family, and he was powerless to make it better. "No." His fingers gripped his aching head which housed his overtaxed mind.

Greg closed his eyes prepping for the dire news, but when he heard Grissom say, _It's not McKenna. I just spoke with Wendy. McKenna is home coloring at the kitchen table. I'll be right there_, he snapped them open and rejoiced, "It's not her! She's home safe! She's coloring at the kitchen table." Then he remembered there was still a dead little girl to be accounted for and sobered.

Nick lifted his head out of his hands. "It's not her?"

"No." He clicked off his cellphone and tucked it in his shirt pocket while breathing in and out a couple of deep ones.

"It's_ not_ her?" Nick repeated desperate to comprehend the words.

"It's _not_ Mckenna." And just when Greg thought he had been shocked to an extreme by witnessing Nick's intense emotional reaction, Greg witnessed something he never even considered possible from his friend.

"She's really okay," Nick assured himself again as he rushed to wipe away his tears. "She's coloring? At home." Try as he might he couldn't be sure he was hearing it right. "That's what you heard?"

"Yes, that's what Gris said. He just spoke to Wendy" Greg nodded vehemently. "McKenna's home coloring."

Nick finally heard the message clearly. "She loves coloring." As the relief came so did more tears. "Yeah…she makes me pictures all the time."

"You have some in your office." Greg initiated what he hoped was a soothing conversation. "Nothing unleashes the imagination quite like a pristine 64 pack of Crayolas and a blank piece of paper, huh?"

In free association, Nick released the first words that popped into his head. "Always a good diversion on a rainy day in Texas."

"Or a hot summer afternoon in California." Greg flashed a quirky smile. "The crayons always smelled great when you opened the box for the first time, didn't they? Or is that just me who likes to do crayon whippets?"

In the midst of his mental chaos, the wacky comment incited Nick's mouth into a faint smile. "I'm guessin' that's just you, Greggo."

Grissom rushed around the corner, relieved to find them. "This isn't the tallest building, Greg!" One glimpse of Nick's distress and Grissom was eternally thankful it wasn't McKenna back at the scene. Then he felt guilty because there was still someone's special little girl back there.

"Sorry!" Greg stood up. "Under duress, it seemed like the tallest building."

Grissom steadied himself with a breath. "No…I'm sorry." The snap was from his own nerves working on him. The cryptic phone call to Wendy Blake had him rattled. At first because he had to pretend like nothing was wrong when he could be alerting her to the worst possible news, and then because he had to tell her the reason for the call and alarm her that somewhere in the city lurked a beast capable of such terror. "We're all under a lot of stress at the moment." Extending his cellphone Grissom managed a smile. "Wendy has a special someone on standby to talk to you, Nicky. Take your time. Greg and I have it covered."

Grissom knew exactly how relieving it would be for Nick to hear McKenna's voice because he had found himself in a similar situation not too long ago during the Debbie Marlin case. Even though his mind knew the dead body on the floor belonged to Debbie Marlin and not Sara, it wasn't until he saw Sara standing outside that he could breathe again.

When Nick grabbed the phone, Grissom took Greg by the arm. "Let's start processing"…which was code for, _let's give him some privacy because as soon as he hears that little girl's angelic voice I know he'll be bawling his eyes out._

As they turned the corner, Greg heard Nick calmly say in a feigned good 'ol boy drawl, _How's my Kenna Girl_? A jagged gasp for air followed Nick's question and as they moved out of earshot, Greg was relieved not to witness the rest of the emotional charged conversation. "Gris…"

He interrupted his controlled breathing exercise. "Yeah."

"You think there's a restroom in _the tallest building_ over there?"

"I'm sure there is."

Walking away he choked out, "I'll be back in five."

With Nick and Greg incapacitated, the Master Criminalist resumed his controlled breathing exercise and headed toward the crime scene alone.

On approach, Grissom heard the cops discussing Nick's erratic behavior including phrases like…_the years caught up with him…totally snapped...just freaked…lost it._ Standing in front of the group, Grissom cleared his throat. "The vic is approximately the same age as his niece, she's wearing his niece's favorite dress and has the same color hair…he thought it was her. Who wouldn't snap in that situation?" With that said, Grissom re-entered the warehouse and found David once again working alone.

Looking up from his notepad David Phelps inquired, "He okay?"

"Yes, thank you for asking." Grissom walked over to the three kits resting on the floor and opened his. From it, he grabbed a pair of gloves and his prescription bottle of Imitrex; opening it, he shook loose two pills into his palm. "May I have one of your water bottles, David?"

"Sure."

With Greg's camera in one gloved hand and the pills in the other, Grissom walked over and grabbed a water bottle from David's supply pile. "Thanks." After swallowing the medication he calmly said, "Now tell me what you know."

As he listened to the facts Grissom began snapping photos of the surreal and tragic scene. It was the first child victim he had processed since potentially creating one of his own with Sara. As he worked, he thought of their effort to create a baby and he imagined the work it took to tend to one and nurture it into childhood. Effort and work that could be undone in one minute by a monster such as the one who snuffed out the life of this precious little girl.

Minutes later, when he moved in for close-up shots, he heard Vartann at the entrance.

"Just got a missing persons call," The detective announced. "Five years old, golden blond hair, fell asleep last night in her favorite dress…white with red ladybugs…just got it for her birthday last week. Mom moved her into the bedroom around ten. Went to wake her this morning and found the window open and the bed empty. They're frantic." Vartann stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Is there a thin jagged scar on her upper right arm…about three inches long?"

Grissom adjusted his lens and answered unemotionally, "Yes." Then he snapped a photo of it.

Vartann exhaled. "Her name is Brittany Thomas. I'll be outside calling it in."

David stood and cleared his throat. "Now I need a moment."

Grissom turned with the camera. "David?"

Heading for the door he explained, "Brittany…it's one of three names we have picked out for our baby."

Alone in the warehouse with the victim, Grissom resumed taking photos. "I'm not going anywhere, Brittany," He whispered as he knelt over the body and snapped more photos. "I'll do what needs to be done, then I'll find him and then he'll pay." For the first time his conviction wasn't solely for the victim, or the nameless, faceless potential future ones…it was also for the safety of his future child…possibly a little girl named Erin, who he thought Sara would most certainly buy a dress covered in Coccinellidae.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Chapter 75: Losing It – Part 5

**Posting: **Tuesday 5/3

**Teaser:** Tough day at the office…and the day has just begun.

**Thanks for reading. If you have comments to share or questions feel free to review, or email me from the author page or my homepage link. **

_Maggs_


	4. Losing It Part 4

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 75: Losing It – Part 4**

**August 22, 2005 (Day 122)  
****Carrie Blake's Office  
****8:30 a.m.**

Carrie had been sitting at her desk for an hour reviewing information on a new case that had been dropped on her desk that morning when her boss, Steve Ogden, Assistant District Attorney, came bounding into her office.

"Carrie…I know I've dumped a ton on you already, but I'm hoping you can help us out here."

Looking up she asked, "What's going on?"

"State vs. Harden. Braxley's case." Leaning in the doorway he explained, "The vic is freezing up at T-minus forty-five minutes. I was hoping you could talk to her and maybe gently encourage her to proceed with her testimony. If she doesn't, the case will collapse. The guy has no priors, we didn't get any seminal fluid evidence because he wore a condom and there were no witnesses." He sighed. "You know how it goes."

"State vs. Harden? Fourteen year-old raped by an adult family friend while camping?"

"That's the one." He was always amazed that she knew every case on everyone's desk.

Carrie stood, smoothed her hands over the jacket of her black and white boucle suit and walked to meet Steve. "Let's go."

Before they could exit, the prosecutor assigned to the case, Clive Braxley, burst into the office. "Are you going to help or not, Blake? If the girl hears your story she might cooperate because I heard from Martha that it worked like a charm on the girl in State vs. Mobius when she was balking."

Steve had warned Clive to let him do the asking but, as usual, young and impetuous Mr. Braxley, certified both in law and being an ass, didn't listen. And then he made matters even worse.

"Oh, come on! I've got forty-two minutes to get that girl's butt on the witness stand or my case is done. I've lost my last two due to pathetic witness performance and I will not be made a fool of again." Braxley huffed, "If I have to tell my dad I biffed another case I'll never hear the end of it. I have a degree from Yale for Christ's sake, why won't these witnesses just do what I tell them. Whatever…let's go, Blake. I know you can make her do it."

Although he had only known Carrie for the three and a half months she had been working for him, Steve knew her well enough to prepare for the impending verbal smackdown she was about to deliver…one that was rightly deserved by Clive, the egotistical jerk.

Incensed by 98 percent of what she had just heard fly out of her deplorable co-worker's mouth, Carrie smiled then spoke sweetly. "Your compassion overwhelms me, Clive, yeah…but what you really need is a little empathy for the victim. So here's what I'd like to propose…I'll run over to cell block C and grab the biggest, loneliest, inmate I can find, and while I'm doing that, to expedite matters I'd like you to drop your pants and bend over my desk."

Steve watched the clueless expression on Clive's face morph as Carrie unleashed her tirade.

"Because maybe once you've been screwed mercilessly, by someone stronger than you, who you haven't invited to violate your body, then you'll _finally _be able to comprehend why it's a little hard to talk about in front of a room full of strangers! Your ignorance astounds me! News flash…most of us aren't here to prop ourselves up and brag about our win stats. We're here to ensure _the victim_ gets justice. Maybe your witnesses don't _perform _as you put it…I can't even believe you use that word as if they're poodles who you want to jump through flaming hoops! Maybe they don't do well on the witness stand because of _you_ and _your _callous approach? Ever think of that? Maybe they can sense you don't give a rat's ass about them and that you're using them to further your career…you're just another person taking advantage of them, don't you get it? And don't try to pretend you do because I know what you're all about."

"Oh you do, huh?" Clive countered.

"Yes! Do you know how many punks fresh out of law school like you I've seen come and go?" With her hands flying she educated him. "You've got your Yale law degree and you're here putting in a couple of years for the DA so it looks good on your resume. That way, when you toss your hat in the ring for some Podunk political office you can say you served the public."

Steve decided not to stop her, partly because she was right, but mostly because if she wasn't already engaged, he would have been on bended knee proposing a month ago.

Infuriated, Carrie stepped closer to the bastard and narrowed her eyes as she reamed him. "You don't _care_ about the victims. If you did, you'd never say 'I've got forty-two minutes to get that girl's _butt _on the witness stand' in reference to a fourteen year old who was sodomized! You would never ask me to _make her_ do something when the reason she's here is that someone _made her_ do something against her will. And, you would _never_ have the gall to refer to me _telling my story_ as if it's some trick I use to win cases, like I'm lucky that I was sexually abused so I can be more successful at my job. You make me sick." She turned to Steve. "He makes me _sick!_ If you _ever_ assign him another sexual assault case…male or female victim, I quit. Am I crystal clear?"

Now Clive was outraged. "I've been here over a year, you've been here what…three months? And do you know who my father is back in Iowa? He's the mayor of the fifth largest city. Have fun on the unemployment line, Blake."

Miffed, Carrie glared at her boss. "Steve…is he for real? Tell me he's not for real. You let him work here? Explain that to me. I know the pay stinks and it's hard to attract talent compared to private firms, but this bottom feeder is an embarrassment. This is why there needs to be a Sensitive Crimes Unit within this DA's office like in other civilized places in this country. So the prosecutors are trained and know how to handle these cases properly."

"Oh back off, Blake! Your holier than thou diatribe is giving me heartburn." Clive raised his voice. "I heard you moved here after death threats were launched against you in Seattle. Who threatened you? Co-workers? You have the personality of…"

"Time out!" Steve plastered on his peacemaker face. "Let's all calm down. It's T-minus thirty-five now and the victim is the one who will ultimately suffer if we don't refocus." He knew that would work on Carrie because of her concern for the girl, and it would work on Clive because of his concern over saving his own ass.

Carrie took a deep breath in while shooting daggers at Clive. "Where is she?"

"Conference room 10."

Before walking out the door Carrie caught her boss's eye. "I meant what I said."

Alone in the room with his boss, Clive snapped, "Are you going to let her get away with giving you an ultimatum?"

Steve smiled. "You lost your last two cases in how many months, Clive? Carrie's been practicing for seven years and she's lost two _total_." He winked. "And both of those were due to police procedural error, not her performance. Like I'm really going to choose you over her?"

Clive couldn't believe his ears.

"Oh, don't look so shocked." Steve laughed. "We both know she's right about your career aspirations. Plus, you're only here because your daddy knew someone and pulled a string. That's how you got into Yale too. So let's not waste time on delusions of grandeur. Carrie graduated number one in her class and has a stellar record. Any DA's office in the country would be thrilled to have her. Every day she works here our reputation gets better."

"Fine."

Steve started to walk away then turned back "One more thing, Clive…before you toss your father's prestigious credentials as mayor of the 5th largest city in Iowa in her face again, you should know that Carrie is engaged to Nick Stokes, he's a CSI here in Vegas, but Nick's mom ruled the Dallas courtrooms as an attorney until the day she retired, and his dad is currently a Texas Supreme Court Judge. So when it comes to string pulling, I'm guessing she could find someone to snip yours if she wanted to." Pointing at Clive he reminded him, "You live in Vegas now…always know who has the upper hand. She does."

While Carrie was out saving his ass by talking to the victim, Clive stood in her office stewing over the confrontation and counting the seconds until his two year stint in the DA's office was up so he could go into private practice and rake in the bucks.

When he heard Carrie's cellphone ringing on her desk he intrusively walked over and glanced at the caller ID displayed. Staring at the ringing phone he snarked, "Sorry, Stokes, your idealistic fiancée is too busy saving the world to talk to you right now. Try again later, pal." As he helped himself to M&Ms from Carrie's candy bowl he laughed out loud. "I can't even believe she's engaged to a man because that chick oozes uber-feminist, man-hating lesbian from every pore. A regular Black Widow Spider lying in wait for man-prey. Yeah…I bet she and her covert coven of man-haters are hoping to take out the male population one by one. Her fiancé must be a real wimp…and a clueless idiot. Shit…those CSIs are all a bunch of science geeks. He's probably happy a girl's breathing in his direction."

**Warehouse Crime Scene  
****8:35 a.m. **

After spending some quality time composing himself in the restroom of a restaurant supply company near the scene, Greg returned determined to process the case.

When he stepped inside the furniture warehouse he saw Grissom and David were working diligently in silence. "I'm back," Greg announced while staring at the dollhouse. "Sorry I took longer than five. You know…there was a long line." It had been at least twenty. "Have you checked on Nick?" He was grateful to see David was prepping the body for transport. It would be a lot easier to work once the victim was removed.

Grissom calmly replied while going about his business, "No. He'll be back when he's ready. I put his kit outside by the entrance…he'll be working the perimeter. As for you, first I want you to do something I know only you can pull off."

"What's that?" He asked as he donned a pair of latex gloves. "I can't think of anything I can do at a crime scene better than you, Master Grissom." The lighthearted remark felt drastically out of place as soon as it left his lips. "Sorry…I don't mean to joke. It's nerves."

"Call Sofia and see if she's still at the lab. I'd like her to meet David at the morgue to process the sexual assault, because Sara can't see this girl wearing this dress and Jas isn't trained. If Sofia's left for the day, use whatever magical power you have that works on her to see if she'll come back for a few hours. She's the best the lab has when it comes to SAE."

Grinning at the fact there actually was something he was better at than Grissom, Greg pulled out his cellphone. "I just programmed in her number when she covered for me Sunday." When he saw David wrapping the little girl's body in the customary white sheet, Greg said, "I think I'll get a better signal outside."

"I bet you're right."

Once outside, Greg scanned the area for Nick and waited for Sofia to pick up.

After three rings she answered, "You don't seriously expect me to cover for you again this soon, do you? People will start to talk about us if I'm nice to you twice in one week. They'll either think I began taking Xanax, or that I'm hoping to get lucky with you. Actually, if they think I want to get lucky with you, then they'll automatically assume I'm on drugs."

"I'm sure they would." He appreciated the joke in the middle of the harrowing morning. "Are you still at work?"

"No, I'm already home. Why?"

As he spoke he watched the Medical Examiner's transport tech wheeling by the stretcher to bring out the victim. "Uh…we're working a nasty homicide with sexual assault on a little girl…she's only five." He swallowed hard. "Was five? I'm not sure what's the right…anyway…I need someone to do the exam when the body arrives in the morgue."

"Sara was there when I left a half hour ago."

"Yeah…uh…well…" Greg knew he shouldn't give Grissom's reason. "I don't want her to do it because…I'd rather have you handle it. You know you're the most trained in the lab."

"Why are you asking me instead of Stokes?"

"Um…yeah…well…."

"Aren't you articulate this morning?" She groaned. "I'll be there in twenty. And you tell your boss that I'm doing this for the victim, not him, but he better thank me personally."

When he heard the click, Greg tucked away his phone and was relieved to see Nick passing under the crime tape. He still looked rattled, but it was a far cry from his mental state a half hour ago. It was also immediately obvious that Nick was uncomfortable with the stares he was getting from some of the less CSI-friendly cops.

Greg greeted him with a supportive smile. "Glad to have you back." His comment extended beyond its geographical meaning.

Nick gave a quick nod then, stepping closer, he quietly said, "I'm having a hard time remembering everything that happened before the phone call, but I'm guessin' by the looks on the cops' faces it was pretty bad."

"Uh…" It was the second time in a matter of days that he witnessed extremely personal behavior without Nick knowing he did.

"Tell me _exactly_ what happened. I know I must have been in shock or I'd remember it all myself. And don't lie, I saw the puddle of spew in the alley and I know my face was soaked when I was talking to you about crayons." He glanced over at the cops lingering by the crime scene tape. "I'd rather hear it from you first instead of in the hallway at work."

"Okay." After a deep breath in and out Greg shared the details. "You were in shock at first, and then you exhibited a fight response…you were insisting the girl was alive and determined to grab the body. We had to call the boys in blue to restrain you, because let's face it…" He tried to add a little levity. "I'm no match for your brawn on a good day, but with all that adrenaline fueling you in the midst of a full blown panic, I didn't stand a chance at keeping you away from the body. David and I together weren't able to hold you back."

He cringed, imagining how bad it was. "A full-on freak show for the boys…great."

"There's good news though." He clarified, "I mean beyond the fact it's not McKenna."

"What?"

Greg thought about framing it better, but remembering Nick was a no bullshit kind of guy, he decided not to sugarcoat it. "These guys only saw you in Ironman mode with two cops trying to restrain you…and then they saw you running away. That's it. They didn't see you really lose it, the puking and the…um…"

"Crying," He confirmed unapologetically. "I thought my future-niece was slaughtered. I'm not ashamed..." He glanced over his shoulder. "…that you saw me."

"And I'm not the type of guy who exploits other people when they're vulnerable, so you don't have to worry about hearing anything that happened behind that building being talked about in the hallways at work or anywhere. Not even with Tawny. Got it? I'm a friend before I'm anything else to you…even before I'm a non-conformist, politically tone-deaf ass who hates your meetings. Oops did I just say that last part out loud?"

Nick smiled. "Thanks, buddy."

Pleased with the exchange, Greg relaxed. "The Master has exercised his Brass-given right to take command of this crime scene, so you're not the boss man right now. He left your kit outside. He wants you to work the perimeter." Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the body being placed in the black bag. "I suggest you grab your kit and start in the rear of the building."

"So controlling, Greggo." Nick hoped the tease would improve his mental state. It barely made a dent, but at least it was something.

"Also, I called in Sofia to do the SAE because Gris doesn't want Sara involved." He saw Nick ruffle at the mention of Sofia's name. "Sorry, I know you don't like working with her."

Grabbing his kit he groaned, "Oh hell, she's the last person I need to deal with today. I'd rather puke out my guts and bawl like a baby in front of the cops than have her riding my ass. Shit! And I couldn't get Carrie on the phone. It's not even nine a.m. and this day is sucking the life out of me."

As Greg watched his boss hustle away to process the rear perimeter, he recalled comments Nick had made about Sofia a few months back when he first had to supervise her…S_he rubs me the wrong way. Something about her…she's so damn domineering all the time. She should be working at Lady Heather's House of Horrors. Hell, if a guy goes to bed with her, he better sleep with one eye open all night, because she has this Black Widow Spider vibe going on. I have a sixth sense about women like that. They seriously give me the creeps._ That's when the revelation hit him. Nick's tequila-induced subconscious confession about his childhood trauma…it wasn't, as Greg had initially assumed, _a man_ who had done the abusing, it was a woman. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense because Nick didn't have intense homophobic tendencies or problems with guys invading his personal space, but he always had a problem with aggressive women. "Whoa…why does that seem even more messed up to me?"

"Greg!" Grissom called from the warehouse entrance. "What did Sofia say?"

"She's on her way in." He hurried back to the door. "What do you want me to do next?"

"I took all the overview shots, all the body shots, the dollhouse and close-ups within a ten foot diameter of the body." He handed over the camera. "You take the rest." Then he noticed Nick's kit was gone. "He came back?"

"Yeah…he uh…doesn't remember anything before your phone call."

"The mind is very protective."

"Anyway, we talked. I told him you wanted him on the perimeter and when I saw the body was being loaded I didn't want him to see it being wheeled out, so I told him to start in the back."

"Nice call. And I could tell you were doing an excellent job holding it together when Nick was out of control behind the building." Grissom smiled. "I think this is your most impressive day on the job ever, Greg."

Frowning, he confessed, "That's because you didn't see me losing my mind in the bathroom."

Placing his hand on Greg's shoulder he proudly replied, "Exactly."

**County Courthouse  
****Conference Room 10  
****8:59 a.m. **

As fourteen year-old Maria Speranza sat at the conference table between her court appointed Victim's Advocate and her sobbing mother, she trembled uncontrollably.

For the last fifteen minutes the girl had listened intently to Carrie speaking in a voice full of empathy. "That's why I'm so proud of you, Maria." Carrie reached across the table and took the girl's shaky hand in hers. "You were so brave. You came forward right away. I didn't have the courage to do that. It took me a year. Right now there are girls out there keeping quiet because they don't have your strength."

"Will he be able to see me?"

Carrie took a deep breath. This part was always hard. "The rules of the court prohibit me from answering that question, because we will be asking you to identify him. So I can't tell you if he will be there or where he will be sitting if he is. You will be asked by Mr. Braxley, if you see the man who assaulted you in the courtroom, to please identify him by pointing and/or verbally identifying him." She squeezed her hand tighter. "I won't lie to you. That will be a tough moment. But if you see him, you take a deep breath and focus on the fact that he shouldn't be allowed to walk free after doing what he did to you. All you have to do is point one time and then it's out there."

Her sobbing reduced to a sniffle, Maria asked, "Do I have to answer all those gross questions?"

"I know it's difficult, but the more information you provide, the stronger the case will be. If you are uncomfortable at any time you can ask the judge for a break. If you don't understand a question, or a word, or a concept, just stop and ask for an explanation. If you can't remember something all you have to do is say you don't remember. Okay?"

Maria nodded ever so slightly.

"Here's another thing that's very important. The other attorney, the defense attorney, may try to be overly sympathetic and sweet to you. Women are picked as defense attorneys in these cases for a reason. Just because she is nice, don't feel obligated to agree with her. If you disagree with something she says, no matter how nice she is to you, even if she's ten times nicer than Mr. Braxley, don't agree if it's not the truth. You'll swear to tell the truth in the beginning and that's what you do the whole time. This is about you having the power, Maria. It's your chance to tell the story. Don't let anyone take that power away from you. You tell it like it is, no matter how hard it is and, in the end you'll have your power back and he'll have lost all of his."

"Okay."

Maria's mother smoothed her hand over her daughter's back. "This is so hard. I feel so guilty she has to go through this. If I had been doing my job as her mother…"

"Are you in counseling?"

"Yes," The Victim's Advocate replied.

"Good." Carrie gave Maria's hand another squeeze. "This trial is the last step. After this it's all about healing. But in order to recover successfully, you can't keep this locked away inside you. It's painful now, but if you carry it around for twenty years it's going to be much worse. This is a silly analogy, but it works…think of a bottle of soda pop. You know when you shake it hard and then open it, it explodes from the pressure built up inside, right?"

"Uh huh.

"Well, you carry this around inside you without ever dealing with it, that's what it will feel like. More and more pressure will build. Imagine what the pressure in a bottle of soda pop that's been shaken for years is like. Then imagine what happens when one day it's suddenly opened."

"A big explosion."

"Right, that's why you can't let this rattle around inside you. Let it out now before it has a chance to build into something bigger. It never completely goes away Maria, it will always be a part of who you are. The difference is the shame will be gone once he's held responsible. Eventually, this trauma won't consume your thoughts. First hours go by without thinking about it, and then you'll realize days have gone. As time goes on you'll think about it less and less."

"I really want to believe you."

Carrie encouraged her with a sympathetic smile. "I know this seems like the end of the world, but it doesn't have to be. The trial will be over in a week and you're only fourteen. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can still be anything you want to be. He took something precious from you, but he didn't take your life _unless_ you let what he did to you prevent you from living one."

"But if everyone finds out…what guy will ever want to be my boyfriend?"

Carrie smiled brighter. "I have a ring on my finger, right? The answer is the right guy will want to be your boyfriend. Any guy who lacks the compassion to understand what you had to go through just to get the justice you deserve, isn't a guy worth knowing, Maria."

The frightened girl clutched Carrie's hand. "Will you be in the courtroom?"

"If you want me to be there, I'll stay the whole time. I'll sit right next to your mom. Any time you need a reminder that a girl can get through what you're going through, you look at me. I won't be able to say anything or gesture or smile at you, but I'll be with you in spirit. And after the trial is over I can talk to you as much as you need. Okay?" When she saw Maria nod, Carrie breathed a little easier. "Again, I'm so proud of you, Maria." Then she turned to the mother. "Mom, if you would please take her to the restroom to wash her face and fix her hair." Standing up, Carrie said, "I need to brief Mr. Braxley and then I'll meet you back here."

Upon exiting the conference room, Carrie saw Braxley pacing the halls. "She's testifying. I'll be there the whole time. I'll be there for her, but I'll be watching you like a hawk. You better try this case like your life depends on it."

Braxley nodded. "I'll do my best."

Walking towards the water cooler, Carrie snipped, "Yeah…that's exactly what scares me."

**Dr. Myers Office  
****12:30 a.m. **

Sara sailed through the open door with a smile blazing on her face. "Good Morning."

"Well now…" Dr. Myers, dressed in a pale yellow suit, leaned back in her chair. "…I don't even think I have to ask your preference today." Opening a desk drawer filled with ten different jumbo bags of candy, she reached for a bag of M&Ms.

"M&Ms please," Sara requested. It was a code the doctor had introduced in the early days to break the ice, and now it was tradition. Dark chocolate when there was something somber to discuss, Snickers if she wasn't sure what she wanted to talk about, and M&Ms when she was happy and just looking for a good conversation. "Thanks."

With the small candy bag in hand, she strolled over to her favorite overstuffed leather chair and plopped in it, tossing her legs over the side.

"So I take it throwing your first real party was a success?" Grabbing her 'Sara notebook' and pen she emerged from behind her desk and took a seat across from Sara.

"Everyone had a great time," Sara gushed. "Some people had too much of a good time _in my pool house."_

"Ahhh." Dr. Myers smiled. "Some couples can only experience a sexual rush when there is a probability of being caught."

"That wasn't the case," Sara laughingly assured her. "It was my friend Carrie I've talked to you about and her fiancé, Nick, who I've also discussed."

"Really?"

"Shocking! I know," She replied in Brass-like manner. "I need to get something off my chest about my friendship with Carrie."

Referencing her notes, Dr. Myers remarked, "When we spoke last week you said that you were enjoying having a real girlfriend for the first time in your life. Did the pool house incident impact your trust?"

Having just popped the first bunch of M&Ms in her mouth, Sara quickly chewed. "If it had been anyone else in the pool house I would have been pissed, but…pardon my attempt to sound like a professional therapist…considering Carrie's sexually repressive tendencies, it was a breakthrough and I was thrilled for her, so I don't mind."

"Nice…both the wording and the compassion…especially taking into account your germphobia." Dr. Myers relaxed further in her chair. "So what's on your mind then?"

"I feel guilty."

"How so?"

Crumpling the empty M&M wrapper Sara confessed, "I feel guilty that sometimes I think I like having Carrie as my friend because in a lot of ways she's worse off than me, and it makes me feel better."

"You feel superior and that feeling incites guilt?"

"I hate cliques," Sara explained. "All through high school I was never a part of one, but I observed their behavior. It was all about hierarchy. The cool girls at the top of course and within the clique there was always a top dog. A girl who acted above all the other girls in the group and led the way…the one who thought she was so superior. In my high school her name was Suzie Smith. I wasn't orbiting in the same universe as her and yet she felt compelled to beam into my life and bash me at every given opportunity and point out my inadequacies." Her voice thick with irritation Sara announced, "Suzie Smith continued to taunt me after high school…appearing in new forms…like Miranda, and most recently, Lady Heather. Like that night I told you about when I was working the dunce case at the Dominion. There I was minding my own business and, without any provocation from me that witch felt it was necessary to swoop in and try to make me feel insecure and inferior. In high school I would be sorting through my locker and Suzie would come over and start harping on me. Why do they get such a rush out of knocking someone else down? The Suzie's, Miranda's and Heather's of this world really tick me off."

"I know we've discussed this at length, and I've given you a few opinions even. Do you still see no possible reason for their behavior?"

"Nope." Rubbing her palms on her denim-covered thighs Sara re-directed, "But I don't want to waste any more of my time talking about them. I want to talk about people I care about." After taking a cleansing breath she said, "Okay, back to my issue with Carrie…sometimes I enjoy feeling better off than Carrie, or that her childhood was more screwed up than mine. Why is that? Yeah…I know, you're not going to tell me."

"Are these feelings malicious at any time?"

"No…not at all." She confirmed her answer with a vigorous head shake. "It's like…all my life I've felt that people were looking at me saying 'poor screwed up Sara with the social quirks and unspeakable childhood trauma. Now I've befriended someone who is just one notch below me and sometimes it's comforting to know that I'm not the most messed up girl who ever lived. When I compare myself to Carrie, I think, at least I wasn't personally violated…at least I got to go to school and move to Boston and live at college. After Carrie's abuse secret came out, her parents home schooled her, and she lived at home all through college. With her academic talent she could have gone to any Ivy League school, but she couldn't leave home. She didn't even get her own place for the first time until she was twenty-six. Sexually she knew almost nothing until she started dating Nick. About a month ago she started coming to me with questions, and as soon as I picked up on the fact that I was way ahead of her in that area, I got that superior feeling again. And it's not just her either…it's Tawny too." Sara glanced over at the doctor. "It feels a little weird talking to you about her when she's a patient of yours…then again, so is my husband."

Dr. Myers smiled, "I treat a family of six each independently and as a group. If I can manage not to cross an ethics line there, trust me, this is no problem. I can't tell you anything about Tawny or Gil, but you can discuss them as much as you like."

"Tawny was violated, lost out on college, she didn't have a place to live, and she ended up with such low self-esteem that she thinks her rather inexperienced boyfriend is a Tantric sex god because he makes eye contact with her while they're making love. If you're wondering how I know that, yesterday we were having this chat online…Carrie, Tawny and I…silly stuff…like we were a bunch of teens talking about boys for the first time."

"How did that feel?"

Sara grinned. "Fun at the time, but a bit ridiculous afterwards. Do you think it's silly that a grown woman with a serious job and a Ph.D. chooses to spend time giggling online with girlfriends about boys? And considering my 'boy' is a year shy of 50 that makes it feel a bit stranger to me."

The doctor smiled. "I once had a woman tell me that the first time she had a tea party with her three year old daughter she ended up bawling her eyes out. She grew up in an abusive home and never got to play. She felt ridiculous for enjoying the tea party personally, not just as the mother of the child. There was nothing wrong with her. It's normal to feel that way. I call it the Disneyland Effect."

Sara tilted her head waiting for more of an explanation.

"Have you ever been to Disneyland?"

"Once when I was real little with my parents. I remember photos, but I don't remember being there. I've been to other amusement parks. You know, I had to study the Physics of the rides."

Leaning forward, Dr. Myers explained, "When adults go to Disneyland they'll sometimes do things they never would on a normal day in the 'burbs or in their cubicles at work. They don silly hats and stuff their faces with churros and sing at the top of their lungs to the words of the Pirates of the Caribbean song. Some of them do it because they're connecting to a happy memory from their youth…some do it because they never had a chance to as a kid and they want to experience what they missed. Then some people, like my husband, do it just because it's the one place you can get away with being a sixty year old kid and it's damn good fun. That's why Walt created the place after all." Rising up from her chair she went to her bookshelf. "Check this out."

Sara turned to watch the doctor carrying a photo album.

Holding open the book she pointed, "Here's my husband wearing a giant Goofy hat while riding Dumbo with our grandson. Who has the bigger smile? Flip through the pictures. You'd never guess he was a stuffy Tax Attorney by day."

Sara took the book in her hands and did as suggested. "I can't imagine Gil wearing this Goofy hat."

Dr. Myers chuckled, "In the California Adventure section of the park there's a place called _A Bug's Land_. I bet Gil won't have a problem releasing his inner-child there."

"They do?" Sara lit up.

"They have a caterpillar train, bug bumper cars and a really neat 3-D movie that scares little kids to death."

Sara envisioned taking their little boy or girl on a day of Disney bug adventure.

"It's okay to be silly, Sara." Dr. Myers returned to her seat. "With a job like yours I'd highly recommend taking every opportunity for mindless release as possible. Isn't that why I suggested you and Gil find a place to escape together? Since the age of nine you've been a serious girl. You're due. Don't feel silly…and if do, pretend you're at Disneyland, put on a silly hat, and go for it."

"And what about the guilt thing? Is it wrong that sometimes I see myself as Queen Bee?"

"What you described doesn't sound unhealthy to me. It's human nature. Have you ever considered that Carrie and Tawny are also feeling the same way? Maybe each of them looks at you and thinks about what they had and you didn't?"

"Like…Carrie had parents and a home"

"Right."

"Tawny had a wonderful dad, plus she experienced being the fun, popular girl who everyone wants to hang out with and she never sat home on a Saturday night." Sara chuckled. "And she also knows what it's like to have men in awe over her boobs."

"Exactly." Since Tawny was a patient it was easy to visualize that one. "Everyone compares. As long as it's not malicious, meaning you're not out to prove your superiority and in the process degrade the other person, it's normal. Friendships are give and take. You're each bringing something to the relationship that the other person needs and you're each walking away with something, that's why it's clicking." She smiled. "Click with a 'ck', not clique with a 'que'."

"Thanks…I feel better." She placed the photo album on the side table. "Looking at these pictures of your husband, he reminds me of my friend, Greg Sanders. Greg can be a real wing nut…uh…not that your husband is…"

"No, he is." She chuckled. "That's one of main reasons I married him."

Sara was relieved she didn't insult the good doctor. "I never really mentioned Greg. I guess, because he's the only one in my circle who didn't have a screwed up childhood…duh…he's Tawny's boyfriend, so I'm sure she's told you all about him."

Dr. Myers grinned. "No comment." Then she couldn't contain her laugh because when she heard from Tawny about some of the goofy things Greg did, she had immediately thought of her husband. "What else do you want to discuss?"

"I think I'm pregnant." She beamed. "It's too early to test at home, but I'm very optimistic."

"How exciting! And, that's fantastic news for me!" Dr. Myers returned to her candy drawer and grabbed two bags of M&Ms.

"Why is it fantastic for you?"

"Let's celebrate." She handed Sara a bag and kept one for herself. "To answer your question, it's fantastic for me, because kids drive their parents batty and now I know you'll be a patient for at least the next 18 years." Tearing open the bag she winked. "Just kidding."

"How many children do you have?"

"Four." She shook the M&Ms into her palm. "They're all crazy."

Sara cracked up. "I love coming here."

**Nick's Tahoe  
****1:17 p.m. **

Six hours after arriving at the horrific scene, Nick and Greg were on their way back to the lab while Grissom opted to stay behind for a while longer.

"You up to eating something?" Nick asked when his stomach grumbled. "You know I eat when I'm tense."

"I only drink coffee when I'm tense," He commented as he reached to change the radio station from Head-Banger Hell to Alternative Heaven.

"Caffeine when you're tense?" Looking around for a place to eat Nick remarked, "That's a little counter-productive, don't you think?"

Content when he found The La's, Son of a Gun, Greg replied, "I like to feed my tension and build it to a feverish pitch, that's when I do my best work. How else do you think I used to crank out all those DNA reports so fast? You don't see that kind of turnaround time from Max, do you? He's caffeine-free, tension-free."

"Well, when you worked DNA you were a hard-up bachelor. You should be less tense now that you have a steady sleepover date."

"I am! That's why I need more caffeine!" He joked, happy to be jovial after such an intense morning.

Pulling into a strip mall parking lot Nick pointed. "Okay then, you can go to Starbucks while I grab a couple of protein-style burgers from In and Out."

When he parked the truck Nick noticed Greg gingerly sliding out of the passenger seat. "Did you hurt yourself at the scene?" He left his seat and walked around to meet Greg. "Damn…now I'll have to fill out all the associated injury paperwork today when I'm…."

"No...uh…" Greg shut the truck door. "I had my first personal training session yesterday and the soreness is catching up with me."

"Ah…" Nick flashed a genuine smile for the first time since the crisis. "That's called DOMS…Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness." Walking down the sidewalk he explained, "When you first start working out it's nasty. Usually takes forty-eight hours to peak. Eventually when your muscles get used to the routine, unless you're hittin' it hard at the gym, you won't get nearly as sore." Staring at Greg he asked, "What prompted you to start lifting? Especially after all the crap you've given me about being a musclehead."

"It's part of my Anger Management Plan."

"From your PEAP Counselor? Wait…" Standing outside the door to the fast food place Nick ran his hand through his hair. "I was supposed to mention to you this afternoon when we had our one on one…you haven't submitted anything confirming your sessions have been scheduled."

"Mostly because I haven't scheduled any." Glancing around Greg confessed, "Between you and me, I don't like going to counselors. I was forced to go to one for a year when I was in middle school and I hated every minute of it. I don't like how they try and screw with your head. I prefer to leave my brain wired the way the great creator intended it to be. You know, if every genius had his or her brain rewired we probably wouldn't be driving cars or flying in airplanes. Sometimes it takes a minor synapse malfunction to bring out the magic."

"Come on, Einstein." Nick opened the door. "You need more than a coffee if you're working out hard enough for DOMS. You need protein, my friend." Once inside Nick walked up to the counter and ordered for both of them. "Four cheeseburgers protein style, no onions, no sauce and two large drinks."

Greg grabbed his wallet.

"Save it, it's on me."

"But Tawny and I just won thirty grand at the Riviera last night on a progressive slot machine."

Nick put away his wallet and told the cashier. "On second thought, Mr. Lucky Pull is paying."

Proudly, Greg stepped up to the counter. Then he realized he had no cash. "Uh…do you take Visa?"

Shaking his head Nick grabbed his wallet once more. "They only take cash here." He slapped a twenty on the counter. "Anyway, now that I know you're loaded, when it's your turn next time, I'll go to a better place." Nick handed him the drink cups. "Iced tea for me. I'll grab the burgers and a table."

"Yes, Boss," Greg grabbed the cups and headed for the soda fountain. After he was done filling the cups he glanced around and saw Nick at a corner table sitting with his head resting on his hand. "You okay?" He asked upon approach.

"Yeah, I just need some Ibuprofen. That's why I'm putting some food in my stomach. You should take 800 milligrams too, for your DOMS." Then he caught Greg staring at him. "I'm not a total basket case if that's what you're thinking. I'm just not my usual self is all. Sit down already."

Taking a seat Greg replied, "I wouldn't blame you for being a basket case after what you went through this morning. And sorry…I don't mean to gawk at you. I should know better than anyone what it's like to have people on your back when you're not you're usual self."

"How's that?" Nick asked before lifting his lettuce-wrapped burger and taking a bite.

"Well, I'm usually an upbeat, hyper guy and…."

"Really?" Nick sarcastically replied before taking another bite.

"Really!" He stopped for a sip of his Dr. Pepper. "So when I get serious or crabby, people are always bugging me asking what's wrong, or trying to get me to joke around and perk up. It's incredibly annoying." He laughed at himself. "They expect Chuckles to bring it 24/7."

"It must be exhausting being you, Greggo."

He shrugged, "Sometimes." Then he picked up his bunless lettuce-covered burger and stared at it, mourning the loss of carbohydrates.

His first burger devoured, Nick grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands. "My whole life no one has ever _expected_ me to be funny. Dependable and responsible were the expectations in my house. They were also the expectations when I went to college, when I joined the force, when I became a CSI and definitely now that I'm a supervisor. In the future, they'll also be the expectations of me as a husband and a father."

"It must be exhausting being you, Nick

Picking up his drink Nick honestly replied, "Most of the time." An after his sip he added, "More now than ever."

"Why?" Chomping into his bundle of lettuce accented protein, Greg wished he was drinking a latte.

"Because of Carrie."

Upon swallowing his unwanted bite Greg cautiously asked, "She's that demanding?"

"What? No. She's a dream." Nick stared at the clueless soon-to-be husband and father sitting across from him. "The pressure is worse now, because my life isn't just about me anymore, I'm going to be a husband in less than six months, and if all goes well a father in two years. That's a lot more responsibility than just taking care of my dumb ass. When it was just me, if I screwed up, the only one paying for my mistake was me. In the future, if I mess up, my wife and kids suffer."

"Okay…now I'm tracking you." Greg lowered his burger unable to eat now that it was clear Nick was hell bent on scaring the crap out of him.

Gripping his throbbing head once more Nick cautioned, "And no one knows what the future will bring. What if Carrie gets pregnant and can't work due to complications. That happened to my sister Barbara. Or what if she decides after giving birth that she doesn't want to work anymore? If that happens, then I become the sole breadwinner. Or what if I get hurt on the job and can't work? Or God forbid I bite it, and leave my wife and kids behind to fend for themselves. I have to think of extra disability policies, life insurance, mortgage insurance…hell, yeah it's worse now!" He gave a nervous laugh. "And before when I was tense I'd resolve it by going out, gettin' faced, having a good romp in the sack with the first woman I could find, and then chomping down some aspirin in the morning. Not that I want to do that anymore," He quickly asserted. "I'm thrilled being in a committed relationship. It's just…now when I'm tense, I have to go home and be…guess what…dependable and responsible! It's never ending."

Greg dropped his barely eaten burger on his plate. "Okay…now I've _really _lost my appetite."

"Sorry man…" Nick reached over and grabbed Greg's untouched second burger for himself. "…I didn't mean to shock you, but when exactly was all that gonna dawn on you?"

Gaping at the dependable and responsible man across the table Greg sighed, "My dad would really love having you for a son. What would your dad think of me as a son?"

Nick's jaw dropped as he tried to think of the nicest possible answer. "Uh…my dad is on the Supreme Court of Texas, Greggo…he's into responsibility in a big way. If he had raised you, you'd be singing the praises of conformity, or at least know how to expertly fake a deep appreciation of it. Also, several concepts would have been eradicated from your brain like…_I'll get to it later, I don't feel like it_ and _Why do I always have to do what you say_? They would have been replaced by, "_Yes, Sir, Right away, _and_ How high would you like me to jump?" _

"I'm thinking I would have been grounded a lot."

"You wouldn't have needed sunscreen…_ever_." Nick laughed at the thought of his dad lecturing Greg on responsibility and quickly decided he'd pay good money to watch.

"Nick…pal to pal, can I be honest?"

"Go for it."

After clearing his throat Greg candidly asked, "Do you ever worry that you and Carrie have such similar _high-strung_ personalities, that most likely the two of you will...I don't know…corner the market on Maalox and give your kids ulcers by the time they're four?"

Calmly Nick retorted, "Do you ever worry that you and Tawny have such similar_ manic_ personalities, that most likely the two of you will…I don't know…corner the market on Lithium and give your kids no sense of responsibility by the time they're eighteen?"

"Touché." Greg laughed hard. "Maybe we should experiment together and see if opposites attract?"

Nick immediately required clarification. "I sincerely hope you're talking about us _trading our women_, not you and me together, because I can't handle another shock to the system today, Greg."

Realizing his suggestion was a bit vague, Greg burst out laughing. "I guess I should have phrased that better. See…this is how I get into trouble. I meant like that show on TV, Wife Swap. You get Tawny for a week, while I get Carrie living with me, and then we see what we can glean from living with the opposite personality type for a week. For the record we don't get to touch each other's women. Not that Tawny would want to sleep with you…no offense, but you know what they say…once you've had Chuckles you can never go back. Have you ever seen that show? Tawny loves it and she DVR's it. I watched it once…okay twice…it's funny as hell. There was this one where the family lived in a tree house, I actually thought that would be really cool and…"

"Greg…I think I can safely say that opposites do_ not_ attract. At least not for longer than…" He glanced at his watch. "…fourteen minutes. Dude, I'm sorry, I really need some space."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Standing up, Greg announced, "And since I'm ten times as tense as when I came in here, I'm uh…gonna grab a latte from Starbucks. I'll meet you at the truck."

Once Nick was alone in the corner of the eatery, he yanked his cellphone off his belt and punched in Carrie's code. After three rings he was disappointed to hear her voicemail pick up again. Unlike the last four times he tried her, this time he left a message. "Hey Honey, just checking in to see how your day is going. After I finish up at work today I made plans to head over to your brother's house. He's out of town on business, and Wendy is fixin' dinner for me in exchange for a little babysitting. I know you told me you'd be working late and then you're heading to your new gym, so you probably can't make it, but maybe…if you get a chance could you give me a call, because I was wondering if you would mind…no, that's okay, I'll see you at home tonight. Love ya."

**Warehouse Crime Scene  
****2:09 p.m. **

On his way back from the Sheriff's office, Jim Brass decided to drive over and meet Gil at the crime scene. Upon arriving, he saw the Master Criminalist standing in the center of the warehouse staring at the remnants of the crime.

"Hell of a first day on the new job, huh?" Jim walked over to join his friend. "Did Nick lose it as badly as the grapevine says?"

"It was bad." He glanced over. "Almost destroyed the crime scene."

"But under the circumstances who wouldn't have, right? I mean is this something I have to worry about?" Jim shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you think he's hittin' the wall? The years catching up to him? Too much pressure between the job and the wedding, maybe? Did the vic _really_ look like his future niece?"

"Eerily similar to McKenna," Gil confirmed. "Same age, and the girl was wearing the same dress she had on yesterday. In my opinion, it was absolutely a one time thing due to the circumstances. Stop worrying Jim, they don't come more dependable and responsible than Nick."

"Good." He nodded. "Yeah…I don't even think I'll document it." Noticing Gil's fixation had returned to the crime scene he inquired, "So, whatcha thinkin'?"

"Nothing good." Gil didn't move his eyes.

"You're thinking this wasn't a one time shot?"

"I'm thinking it was his debut."

Jim heaved a heavy sigh. "The father is on his way in to ID the body and answer questions. He couldn't come sooner because the wife had to be hospitalized when the cops went to the house to make the death notification and transport them to the morgue for identification of the body."

"Any idea what their house looks like?"

Jim wasn't surprised that Gil bypassed the personal details and moved on with him. "No, why? Do you think what their house looked like is critical to the case in some way?"

Gil returned his gaze to Jim. "The dollhouse was handmade and it looked similar to houses we'd see here in Vegas. I'm wondering if maybe it was a replica of the girl's. What if he selected that little girl, then built her a dollhouse? Could have been the hook."

"Why her?"

"That's what I don't know." Grissom folded his arms across his chest and returned his focus to the scene. "Which also means I don't know how he'll select the next one. But until we find him…it's open season on little girls who love dollhouses. Or little girls who like pretty dresses. Or little girls with long curly blond hair. Or, a combination of all of those things…or, none of the above." Heading for the door he exhaled, "Which means, it's time to get to work."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 5

**Posting:** Late Thursday/Early Friday 5/6

**Teaser:** And the day just keeps getting better...

All 75 chapters of the Feasibility Study series are also available by clicking my homepage link in my author profile. They are posted on this website in 7 different installments.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

Maggs


	5. Losing It Part 5

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 76: Losing It – Part 5**

**August 22, 2005 (Day 122)  
****Crime Lab  
****2:29 p.m.**

When Sara saw Sofia in the break room filling a mug with coffee she entered the room. "What are you still doing here?" She knew Sofia didn't pull doubles often. Gil had shared with her that Sofia made it clear to him on her first night working Graveyard that she had a four hour overtime limit per shift. Her reason…having a life outside of work was important to her.

"I left at seven and came back at nine." Grabbing the cream she poured a dash into the black liquid. "Greg called me in to do the SAE on the little girl from the Dollhouse Murder. Now that I've done it, I wish I hadn't answered my phone."

"Dollhouse Murder? Is that what they're calling the case they went out on this morning? Gil must hate that. I've been gone most of the day. I had some follow-up interviews from a case, and then an appointment, so I'm out of the loop." Sara cocked her head. "Why didn't Greg call me to do the SAE?"

"That's what I said," She lifted her mug.

"Is the autopsy complete?"

"Just the preliminary. The father is coming in to ID, that's why I'm here." Clutching her mug she crossed the room to sit on the couch. "It's the only part I can't stomach…watching the loved ones ID the deceased."

It was the first time Sara could ever recall Sofia looking vulnerable.

Just then Jas walked in the room. "Sara! Have you heard from Nick yet? Is he okay?"

Sara turned towards Jas. "What happened to Nick?"

Sofia harrumphed, "Do the words _complete mental snap_ color you a clear enough picture? He flipped out in the field and would have destroyed the scene if some burly boys in blue hadn't tackled Mr. Tough Guy when he was hysterical."

"What!" Sara tensed. "What do you mean complete mental snap?" Clearly Sofia was over her vulnerable stage and back to her cold, unfeeling self. Suddenly Sara felt completely lost and wondered why Gil hadn't called and told her any of this.

Jas jumped in, defending her boss. "Sofia's excluding relevant information. Nick mistook the dead little girl for his niece...or future niece, I've heard it both ways. Once he knew it wasn't her, he was fine."

Grabbing her cellphone, Sara punched in her husband's number as she headed out the door on her way to the morgue.

**Crime Lab - Morgue  
****2:33 p.m. **

Upon returning to the lab, Nick and Greg went directly to the morgue to get an update. After gloving up they approached David, who was standing on the far side of the slab on which the girl's body was presented. They were both grateful her tiny body was covered up to her neck with a white sheet.

"I'm in a holding pattern waiting for the next of kin to ID," David informed them as he led them over to the little girl's body. "From the preliminary I can tell you some good news; she was asphyxiated by the trash bag before anything else happened to her."

Upon seeing the face of the little girl for the first time, Nick's hand flew to his mouth. Although the deceased and McKenna were hardly twins, the resemblance was close enough to give him another severe dose of fright. The hair was identical as was the shape of her angelic face.

"You okay, Nick?" David inquired, a little leery of letting him in there in the first place after what he had witnessed earlier.

"Yeah." Nick lowered his hand and continued to stare at the sweet little girl whose life ended much too soon. "Always stuns me when they look this peaceful." He felt his body shake and hoped it wasn't noticeable.

In a distant voice Greg remarked, "She looks like a porcelain doll." With her hair splayed out, her eyes closed, and her undamaged face drained of color it was the first thought that popped into his mind. Then he thought of the dollhouse. "Maybe the killer wanted her to look like a doll? That's why he suffocated her and didn't touch her face while he um…" He struggled with the horrific image etched in his head from earlier. "…while he had no problem damaging other parts of her body. It's a sick thought, but obviously the person who did this crime is one sick bastard. Maybe he um…wanted to rape a doll?" Saying it out loud made him shiver. "Maybe blow up dolls weren't enough anymore so he escalated to creating a real one?"

Nick crossed his arms tight across his body, hoping the measure would alleviate the trembling while trying not to think that this could have been McKenna, or that it happened to any little girl…or that it could happen to another innocent child before the animal was caught. These thoughts always invaded his mind when it came to kids, but this one, because of the personal connection, was ripping him apart and minute after minute he fought to hold it together.

Speaking to Greg's theory, David replied, "Sofia completed the SAE so we'll have to wait for the results, but she didn't find any seminal fluid. Could have used a condom. Maybe it wasn't him, but an object. With a body this small the damage…" Glancing over he curtly said, "Nick? Are you with us here?" He was ready to ask him to step out.

Opening his eyes he replied, "Just considering Greg's theory." He cleared his throat. "So um…she died from the bag being placed over her head. Any signs of struggle? Any markings to indicate she was bound? Did Sofia find anything under the fingernails?"

"No signs or struggle or restraint," David confirmed. "Nothing from the fingernails that looked promising either, but we'll see. I'll be interested to review what we get from Tox because it does appear that she didn't put up a fight."

Greg winced at the thought of the child sitting still while a trash bag was placed over her head. "Even if she knew the person, or thought it was a game, when she started to…um…get scared because she couldn't breathe, she had to resist. Even a small child has the innate desire to survive and struggle when they're uh…dying." The last word resonated in his head and suddenly the scenario was playing out like a movie in his mind…the little girl playing with the dollhouse and then the bag going over her head…her scream…a scream that haunted him until he heard Nick's voice.

"Maybe…" His eyes fixed on the girl's cherubic face, Nick quietly said, "…she was drugged before she was suffocated. Maybe she never saw anything coming. One minute she was happily playing with the dollhouse and then she passes out." Reaching out he gently laid his hand on the girl's head, careful to touch only her hair so he wouldn't feel the chill or the rigor. "For her sake, I'm really hoping I'm right."

Greg glanced over at his boss. "A_ gentle and considerate_ psychopathic beast?"

"Yeah…but not out of concern for her." Removing his hand from the girl's head, Nick augmented Greg's theory. "If he wanted his doll pristine, he would ensure she wouldn't struggle, right?"

"Ahh." He nodded. "That makes sense…I mean, none of this makes sense because it's pure evil, but…you know what I'm saying."

The sound of the door opening had all three men craning their necks.

"We're ready to bring in the father," Donna, the coordinator for the Medical Examiner's office, stated.

Nick gave Greg a little push. "We need to clear the room." And he was thankful it was a requirement so he wouldn't have to come up with an excuse.

When they stepped into the hall they saw an emotionally broken man being held up by two slightly calmer people, presumably friends or family. Both men quickly averted their eyes to the floor.

A second later Nick shivered when heard the preparation words he had heard many times before…

_Now, when you see her, she'll look very pale because blood drains from the face. She'll look like she's sleeping..._

Leaning against the wall, Greg realized that in the next sixty seconds, that man was going to look at his dead little girl for the first time. His thoughts turned to his overprotective mother and how impossible this scenario would have been for her if he had died during one of several close calls in his life. He tried not to look at the man, but out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse and it ripped him apart as he wondered if that's how his mom had looked when she thought he might be dead.

While the father of the murdered girl was being escorted inside the morgue by a police officer, Vartann appeared from around the corner and joined Nick and Greg. "I'm not sure we'll get much out of the father after this, but he said he would talk because obviously, he wants the killer caught ASAP."

Greg couldn't lift his head for fear Vartann would catch the emotion building inside him.

Nick focused on a spot on the floor. Just an hour before he was lamenting about the pressure of responsibility and now his heart went out to the father who had to handle the toughest moment a man could ever face…acknowledging the death of his child. It was another scenario to add to the list of potential stressors of adulthood. "I guess we'll have to wait and see if…"

That's when they heard it.

The heart wrenching wail straight from the father's soul, out of his mouth and reverberating within the four walls of the morgue.

Without a word Nick calmly walked down the hall.

His head still down, Greg hustled off in the opposite direction.

Vartann stuffed his hands in his pockets and spoke to Donna, who was sitting behind her desk shuffling papers. "They're only tough when they're dealing with the dead. Yeah, give them a rotting corpse covered in thousands of bugs, they're fine, but when the living are suffering…they can't handle it."

Donna grabbed her half-eaten sandwich that she had stowed when the next of kin were due to arrive, and readied it for a bite. "It's amazing what you can get desensitized to over the years when you're forced to deal with it every day." Then she chomped and proceeded to chew her lunch, as if she couldn't hear the excruciating cries from across the hall.

Alone in a supply room down the hall from the morgue, Nick leaned against the door and closed his eyes. As he had done many times in the past, he attempted to pull himself together by replaying various motivational speeches he had received from his brother and several football coaches_. Don't be such a wuss! Pull your shit together and get back out there! You're letting everybody down, you need to turn it around ASAP! I don't care how you feel, suck it up and do what you need to do! Push through the pain dammit, and finish what you started, Stokes! _Then he added a few oldies but goodies from his father for good measure. _Don't start something you can't finish, son. Failure is not an option. Never let them see you sweat. Project confidence and strength even in the face of adversity and you will be respected. _

It worked like a charm and with his emotion shoved deep down inside, Nick grabbed the doorknob and bolted into the hall ready to face the case head on. Unfortunately, he didn't look where he was going and crashed right into Sara, almost knocking her off her feet.

"Hey!" She shrieked, unaware of who had just slammed into her

"Sorry, Sara!" Holding her shoulders, he steadied her. "Hell, that's all I need today is to jeopardize the bambino you might be carrying."

"Now I know what it would have been like to play football against you." She checked his eyes, but didn't see any signs of duress. "I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He flashed a confident smile. "Hell of a scare thinking it was McKenna, but as soon as I heard she was okay, I was good to go. Have been ever since."

Still not totally convinced, she prodded, "What were you doing in the supply room?"

"Oh…I needed to check my voicemail and it was quiet in there." He flashed another smile. "You look happy today, Sara. Have some news?" He praised himself for deflecting the attention to her.

"No, nothing official." She shyly glanced away for a second and then returned her gaze. "I had a great therapy session. I even talked about you."

"Me?" He was taken aback. "I swear there's nothing wrong with me, Sara. And I don't need any vicarious therapy if that's what you think you're…"

"Jeez…defensive much?" She chuckled. "Dr. Myers asked me if I thought everyone had a good time at my party and I mentioned that _some people_ had a real good time in my pool house."

"Oh…that."

"Stokes!" Vartann called from down the hall. "Conference room C. Bring whatever supplies you need."

"I've got an interview with the victim's father. He just finished ID'ing the body." Nick turned and started walking. "If I don't see you, enjoy your day off tomorrow. Have some fun for me."

Sara watched him disappear around the corner with Vartann and then headed into the morgue to see the victim. "Hey, David."

"Hey, Sara," He replied while taking a swig from his water bottle.

"Tough one?" She inquired as she walked over to examine the body.

"Yeah."

Only the little girl's face was exposed, but it was uncanny that she also looked to be exactly the same size as McKenna. "Whoa…she really does remind me of McKenna. I can definitely see why Nick flipped out."

"News travels fast around here."

"Tell me about it." She would never forget all the post-wedding gossip.

David finished dressing for his procedure. "Are you sticking around for the autopsy? I'd rather have you in here than Nick."

"Okay." She walked over and grabbed a lab coat from the wall and gloved up. "So, what do you have…" She froze. With the top sheet removed, Sara's eyes focused on the dress covered in ladybugs and blood. Suddenly she knew why Gil didn't want her involved in the case and hadn't returned her calls…the ladybugs on the dress matched one of the nursery decorating themes she had picked. In a flash Sara thought…we're bringing a baby into a world where psychopaths lie in wait to kill innocent little girls.

"Sara?" David couldn't believe how off everyone was today. "You're giving me a Nick vibe."

Tugging off the lab coat she backed away from the table. "On second thought, I'll just wait for your report. Actually, I'm not even working this case. I should be up in Trace checking on results from my case." Then she hurried out of the room.

"Sara!" Gil yelled from down the hall when he saw his wife rushing out of the morgue.

When she heard his voice she stopped in her tracks and waited for him to catch up. "It would have been better if you were honest with me instead of avoiding the issue."

"You saw the dress?"

"Look…I appreciate the concern, but I'm a big girl and a professional on the job. I don't need to be sheltered." Her voice was edgy. "You know how I feel about shelters. Shelters leave you unprepared for the real world and you end up blindsided and shocked. That's what happened to me in there."

"I'm sorry." Taking her by the arm he led her around the corner, away from Donna's desk. "It was so unnerving in the field with Nick this morning I wasn't thinking straight. Yes, my intentions were protective, but not because I don't respect your professionalism or ability to cope." Softening his expression and lowering his voice to a tender whisper, he admitted, "You're on cloud nine about the potential pregnancy, Sara. I didn't want this case…that dress…to ruin it for you."

"Has it ruined it for you? "She asked with trepidation.

He gave an honest answer. "It's tempered my unbridled enthusiasm, but I'm not changing my mind."

"I believe it's too late for that anyway." Their eyes locked. "You're right. I don't want to work this case because it will bring me down. The old Sara would have welcomed the invitation to severe depression, but the new one…she's going to take the pass she was offered and work on something else." Finally relaxing she wished she could have a hug, but since anyone could step around the corner without warning she kept her emotions in check. "Sorry for jumping down your throat." In lieu of the hug she playfully punched his shoulder. "I'm guessing you'll pull a double shift today."

"Definitely." The smile on his wife's face coaxed one out of him. "So, you'll go to your class as planned, keep your day off tomorrow and stay away from the case?"

"Yes, Master," She winked. "That sounds so I Dream of Jeannie, doesn't it?"

He chuckled. "Thanks for cheering me up before I head into autopsy. I'll see you at home tonight."

"Okay." Watching him walk away, she hoped the case wouldn't temper his unbridled enthusiasm for their future baby too much.

**Trace  
****3:10 p.m. **

Greg carried the box containing the dollhouse and all its parts into the lab, setting it on the table. "Hey there," He greeted Mabel and started unpacking the box.

Without lifting her head from her microscope she returned the greeting. "Hey."

Much to his dismay, Greg saw Hodges enter the room, but chose to ignore him. "Mabel, did you get the official memo yet? The new Master Criminalist is exercising his authority to reprioritize work. The Dollhouse Murder case gets the fast track. And I've got the dollhouse and all its pieces right here for you."

"Great," Mabel whined. "Good thing you're covering for Raj today, David, or I'd be screwed. Give it all to him, Greg."

The two locked eyes and Greg inquired, "Why are you covering for Raj?"

In a voice overflowing with irritation he replied, "Because he worked my hours when I was recovering from my _broken nose."_

"Oh." Now Greg really wished he had kept his mouth shut.

Mabel started laughing. "I forgot for a minute you two were arch enemies. If you're gonna brawl, at least give me a few minutes to gather a crowd and start a betting pool."

"Let's focus on the business at hand, shall we?" Unpacking the rest of the box's contents Greg directed, "Grissom was particularly interested in knowing if there is anything special about the paint."

Mabel walked over to the table to take a look. "So, Greg…when I was in the break room earlier I heard that that Stokes really flew off the deep end at this dollhouse scene. They said you were the one who chased him down, how bad was it? Give us some details."

"I'd love to," Greg happily announced to Mabel. Then he turned to look at Hodges before completing his thought. "I'd love to,** if** I was the kind of guy who gets off exploiting people when they're vulnerable, but since I'm not…" He glanced back at Mabel. "…I won't be discussing the details of anyone's personal crisis with you or anyone else, ever. So let's drop it and get back to work."

Hodges rolled his eyes, "Nice speech, Sanders."

"Whatever."

**LVPD  
****Conference Room C  
****3:35 p.m. **

Opting not to sit around the large table, Brad Thomas, the victim's father, sat in a chair in the corner of the room with his brother-in-law Carl and his sister Jen flanking him in chairs. Nick had pulled up a chair in front of them and Vartann was sitting off to the side observing.

"How many more questions?" Brad asked out of mental exhaustion. "I need to get to the hospital and check on my wife."

Sniffling, Jen pleaded, "I really think we should go."

"I know this is difficult." Sensing the man couldn't handle much more Nick offered, "I do have a few more questions, but if you'd rather, we could speak later."

"No." Brad was adamant. "I want my daughter's killer caught and I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen. I was just trying to estimate how much longer until I can check on my wife."

The pain in the man's eyes was overwhelming as Nick gently proceeded. "Do you have any dollhouses in your home? And if so, would you describe them."

"Yes…two." Brad gripped his sister's hand tighter, asking in a shaky voice, "Can you tell him for me?"

"One is the Barbie Talking Townhouse. I just gave it to her for her birthday last week…" She reached for another wad of tissues. "The other is a pink plastic Fisher Price one that she's had since she was three."

"Thank you," Nick nodded as he jotted some notes. "Did Brittany ever play outside with the dollhouses? Like in the front yard or in the park?"

Brad shook his head. "No, they were inside toys."

"Do you recall ever seeing her play with a dollhouse in public? Like at a toy shop where they have them on display?"

"No, but my wife is the one who takes her shopping. They…" His breath caught in his throat as he realized those happy trips would never be happening again.

Jen insisted once more, "We really need to get him out of here."

"Dammit, Jen!" Brad screamed through his tears. "I need to do this for my little girl! I'm staying here and answering whatever I have to! If you can't handle it, wait outside!"

Vartann stood up. "Jen, maybe I could take you and your husband for a cup of coffee?"

Carl jumped at the chance. "I think that's a good idea. Come on, Jen."

Alone in the room with the father, Nick remarked, "You're doing great, Mr. Thomas. You're right…you're doing this for your daughter; you're not letting her down. Just keep focusing on that."

"How can you say I'm not letting her down? Don't you dare say that to me," He replied with a heavy heart. "As her father I was supposed to keep her safe. It was my job to protect Brittany and my wife. That's what a husband and a father does. Now my daughter is dead and my wife is lying in a hospital room drugged out of her mind because she can't cope with the pain. Brittany was our only child. She was our miracle baby. Six years of fertility treatments to get her to come into this world. What the hell was I thinking? I spent all that time and energy trying to create her and didn't spend any time securing her bedroom window better to protect her. I failed, Mr. Stokes…I failed my daughter and my wife."

Hearing these new details, Nick felt a series of chips in his renewed calm. One of his biggest fears in life was being played out before his eyes and everything he thought he would feel if in a similar position was being confirmed by the shattered man in front of him.

Brad's voice cracked sharply, "I was asleep in the house when that monster took her from her bedroom. She went to sleep thinking she was safe that night because her father was home. Do you still think I didn't let her down?" Tears poured down his cheeks once more. "Do you think she asked, 'Where's my daddy?' when the killer had her? Do you think she screamed for me to help her? Do you!"

Flustered by the realization he had said something grossly inappropriate, Nick stammered as the chips in his armor turned to cracks, "I…I really…"

"Are you a father, Mr. Stokes?"

He choked out the answer to the factual question. "No."

"Do you have a wife?"

"A fiancée." He gripped his pen hard enough to feel it dig into his flesh.

Breathing deep Brad said, "How would you feel if she vanished on your watch? Do you think you could say you didn't let her down? Do you think it would make you feel better that you stuck around to answer an investigator's questions after the fact?"

Swallowing hard Nick apologized, "Please forgive my insensitive statement earlier."

Brad closed his eyes and exhaled. "What's your next question?"

"Uh…" Nick glanced at his notebook, pretending the question was there while he struggled to regroup from his professional faux pas as well as terrifying scenario the man presented about Carrie. "Right…um…the dress your daughter was wearing…do you recall where it was purchased?"

"My wife bought it for a two Sundays ago, to wear at her birthday party last week." Brad fought not to remember the joyous celebration. "She got it at that big craft market at the convention center."

"Okay…yes…I've seen it advertised." Having forced every ounce of emotion back down, Nick asked, "Do you remember the name of the vendor?"

"Yes…Daisy's Dresses. It was on the bag. I remember because…" After a jagged inhale, he finished, "…they're my daughter's favorite flowers."

Nick wrote quickly and stood. "There's only one more thing right now. As Detective Vartann informed you, we'll be processing your daughter's bedroom and your home. In order to expedite matters we need DNA samples from you and your wife so we can compare them to any samples we may find. That way we can easily determine if samples found were occupants of the home or not. I can take your sample here. As for your wife, I can send someone from the lab to the hospital, but if that will be too upsetting for her, we may be able to obtain one from an item in your home."

"My wife is so drugged right now she's practically a vegetable. You can send someone."

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas." Nick headed for the door and once there he said something he usually didn't guarantee. "We'll get Brittany justice."

**The Morgue  
****3:51 p.m. **

If someone were to ask Gil Grissom how many autopsies he'd attended in his life he wouldn't be able to provide an exact number, but he would guess it to be in the thousands. However, all those autopsies combined weren't affecting him as greatly as the one he was attending that day…the first autopsy on a child since believing would soon be a father.

"David, when you…" Grissom quickly paused, shocked that he was about to ask such a personal question.

Looking up from the scale holding the victim's liver he prodded, "What?"

"I'm sorry…I was going to ask a personal question and then I realized it was inappropriate." He busied himself reading the girl's file. "Forgive me."

"You were going to ask a personal question? You never do that." That brought a smile to David's face for the first time this day. "Please do…because I'm curious now."

"Alright." He set the file down and took a seat on a stool. "Assuming that you and your wife planned the pregnancy…"

"Oh it was planned, let me tell you." David's lips spread into a wider smile. "My wife is a planning fanatic and she wanted to be pregnant at the same time as her sister. She was charting her temperature and had me on a schedule for three months in a row. The day that we saw the blue line on the home pregnancy test I was crying for two distinct reasons…that we were having a baby and that I had control over my body parts again, because coming home after a tough day at work, and being forced into bed, I tell you…I had a whole new appreciation for celibacy." Suddenly he realized what he was saying. "Sorry for the overshare. You said personal and I got carried away. Forgive me, I'm still traumatized by the process."

Grissom felt his mouth curving up as he related in silence.

Noting the weight of the liver he prompted, "So what's your question? You shouldn't feel too awkward sharing after what I just blabbered."

After a quick smile he posited, "When you were making the decision to have kids, did you filter out what you see here everyday in order to go through with it, or did you decide to have kids even though you know predators, like the animal who killed this little girl, exist?"

He answered without hesitation, "Never factored in. Having kids is something I always wanted. I'm one of five and my wife is one of six. And if all the normal people stopped having kids because of the psychos out there, then eventually the psychos would have the upper hand."

Nodding, Grissom remarked, "Very true."

"With that said though…" David moved on to the next step in the procedure while continuing his thought. "…after seeing Mr. Thomas ID his little girl, and knowing she was snatched from her bedroom, I think it's safe to say I'll be putting in a state of the art security system in my home and sleeping with one eye open for the rest of my life."

"So your knowledge didn't prevent you from bringing children into this world, it will just make you a neurotic parent?"

"Spoken like a man without children of his own…yet." Chuckling, David retorted, "Neurosis is a given when you become a parent. Especially as the father of a girl."

"I suppose so." Grissom noted David's latest findings. "Because man living in fear for his offspring has been around since prehistoric times."

"Right…back then it was a brontosaurus."

"Actually, they weren't carnivores," Grissom corrected. "The T-Rex would be a better analogy."

"Not really though…" David countered as he worked. "…dinosaurs were nabbing children for food the same as I grab a steak from the store. It wasn't pathological, it was biological."

Grissom casually replied, "What makes you think this girl's killer was feeding his hunger?"

David shuddered, "Hearing stuff like that will make me sleep with both eyes open."

"You and me both." Grissom removed his lab coat. "Because if my child was ever snatched, I'm quite certain I'd lose my mind."

**Nick Stokes' Office  
****4:03 p.m. **

With Jas and Pete processing the Thomas house, Nick returned to his office to make a few phone calls. The first to Wendy Blake.

"How are you doing, Nick?" Wendy asked as soon as she answered the phone.

"I'm fine." He added the habitual 'don't you worry about me' smile even though she couldn't see it. "Sorry to bring this up again, but I have a question about McKenna's ladybug dress. Where did you buy it?"

"From a booth at the craft market. The monthly one at the convention center."

A shiver ran up his spine. "Do you remember the name of the vendor?"

"Um…I don't, but I have the receipt at my desk. I'm not on the cordless so hang on a minute and I'll grab it."

He heard her put the phone down, but then pick it up quickly. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but…McKenna heard me say your name when I answered. Are you up to speaking with her?"

"Sure." Spinning his chair he faced the back wall of his office. As soon as he heard her sweet little voice he was thrust back in time to the crime scene when he first heard her voice and knew she was really okay.

"Hi, Uncle Nicky!"

"Hey, Kenna Girl."

"Mommy says you're coming over to play with me tonight because Aunt Carrie can't play with you, because she has a playdate with her friends."

"That's right." Just like before, her lively voice was bringing him peace of mind. "What do you want to play when I'm there?"

"First I want to have a tea party and then we can color and then we can play house. You can be the daddy and we'll make Sean be our doggie."

"Are you sure Sean wants to be the doggie? Maybe we should ask him what he wants to be."

"My mommy is back now so I have to say bye. BYE!"

"Bye."

"Okay…I have the receipt. The vendor was Daisy's Dresses."

The coincidences kept mounting in sync with his anxiety. "Do you remember any vendors at the craft market selling dollhouses?"

"Yes. Handcrafted ones, you could bring in a photo of your house and get one made just like it. They caught McKenna's eye right away, but they were really pricey so we kept on walking."

His heart racing he asked, "Do you remember the name of that vendor."

"Sorry…the price was all I needed to know that I didn't need anymore information. Nick…your tone is giving me the willies."

"Wendy…" He gulped the lump in his throat. "Please be extra vigilant with McKenna until we nail this guy. I can't disclose any specifics on the case, but suffice it to say I'm concerned about something."

"I'm really getting scared, Nick." Wendy's voice shook. "After looking over my shoulder for Mike Rodgers my whole life I've finally been able to relax this year with him behind bars. After knowing what it's like first hand to be held against your will and attacked, if that happened to one of my kids I'd lose my mind."

Now he felt bad for reinstating that fear. "I'm sorry, but…I'd rather err on the side of caution. With Paul out of town on business I feel it's my responsibility to look out for you and the kids."

"Thank you, Nick." She breathed a sigh of relief. "It really does make me feel better knowing you're a phone call away when Paul's gone. So I'll still see you around seven?"

"You tell Kenna that I'll be ready to tea party. See ya."

When he hung up the phone he immediately dialed information and waited impatiently for the automated operator.

_What city? What listing?_

"Las Vegas, Daisy's Dresses."

**Crime Lab  
****Break Room  
****4:12 p.m.**

Sitting on the couch sipping coffee, Greg held his cellphone to his ear waiting for Tawny to pick up.

"Hey, Chuckles. When are coming home to give me some jollies?"

Hearing her voice was a bright spot in a dreary day. "Unfortunately, I won't be home before you head out for dance class. We're working a huge case and Master Criminalist Grissom has commandeered me to be his right hand man after my shift is over. That's what I was calling to tell you."

"Bummer."

He spoke proudly. "Actually, it's a high profile case, so it's a good thing for me. Don't be bummed."

"When you put it like that, I have to say, way to go!" Then she heaved a sigh. "The overtime is good too, because, Honey…I had to quit my job a little earlier than planned…like today. I kept hurling from all the intermingling food smells and the restaurant manager said it was bad for business. Sorry. But at least we have money in the bank and I have a new job waiting for me after Labor Day. Hopefully by then I won't be feeling so queasy."

"Don't worry about it." Suddenly Greg recalled part of Nick's ulcer-inducing lecture…

_What if Carrie gets pregnant and can't work due to complications. That happened to my sister Barbara. Or what if she decides after giving birth that she doesn't want to work anymore? If that happens, then I become the sole breadwinner. Or what if I get hurt on the job and can't work? Or God forbid I bite it, and leave my wife and kids behind to fend for themselves. I have to think of extra disability policies, life insurance, mortgage insurance._

"Greg?" Tawny shouted through the phone.

"Huh? Sorry." Crushed under the weight of impending responsibility he stammered, "I…someone was giving me some information about the case…I need to go. I'll see you later tonight. Love you. Bye." He hung up without giving her a chance to talk and remained in a trance until he felt a tap on the shoulder.

Sara gawked at her co-worker. "You okay?"

"I don't have mortgage insurance," He mumbled.

"Probably because you don't have a house." Laughing, she headed for the fridge.

"Oh god…Nick was right." Gripping his forehead he leaned over. "There's so much I haven't considered. My dad's right too."

"Clue me in here." Holding her Tupperware of tuna fish she grinned, "Getting cold feet about being a daddy? Too late, my friend!"

"Nick was just lecturing me about responsibility."

"I have some Maalox in my locker if you need it." She sat at the table and cracked open the lid on her snack.

"Between this case and…"

"It's a really twisted one, isn't it?" As she grabbed her fork she sighed, "I saw the little girl in the morgue."

"Me too…" Shivering he informed her, "Then I saw her dad. All I kept thinking was…this is what my mom must have felt like worrying that I was dead."

"From the lab explosion?" Sara knitted her brow. "But Gil told her immediately that you were in no danger and would make a full recovery."

"Oh…" He embellished, "You know…my mom, she's an over-worrier."

"Greg…" Sara curiously stared at him. "When you saw the girl in the morgue and then her father, the only thoughts you had were about you being the child and how your mom would cope with the news of your death?"

After pondering for a moment he answered, "Yeah. Why?" He polished off his coffee in one last gulp.

"Because Gil and I discussed it and we both saw it from the parental perspective...how we would feel if it were our daughter and attributed those feelings to becoming parents soon ourselves. So it's a little surprising to me that you didn't think of that at all now that you're about to become a father." She raised a brow. "You're still visualizing yourself as a child, not a parent." Grinning she surmised, "I guess Chuckles isn't ready to grow up yet."

Standing up he huffed in a caffeine-fused rant, "What, did you and Nick decide to double-team me today playing Responsibility Twins 1 and 2? I get it, okay! Obviously I haven't been the most responsible guy in the past and I have a ways to go. The idea of having a baby is still really new to me, and unlike you…it's not something I planned in advance. I'm dealing with it as fast and as well as I can, but I guess my subconscious didn't get the memo. I'll be sure to add that to the list of things I need to work on, but for now, can you cut me some slack?"

"Jeez, I'm really sorry, Greg." She lowered her fork, realizing she hit a nerve. "I didn't mean…I was just having some fun with you."

His irritation only escalated from her statement. "Right…everyone thinks I'm here for their amusement."

"Seriously…can you take a seat and talk to me about this? I feel really bad."

"I can't." He glanced at his watch and made a beeline for the door. "I'm working and I wouldn't want to be accused of being a slacker on top of everything else."

"Greg! Come back here!" Sara was about to go after him when her phone rang.

**Nick Stokes' Office  
****4:19 p.m. **

After hanging up with Sara, Nick sat in his office holding his desk phone to his ear waiting for someone to pick up when finally a friendly woman's voice soared through the phone. "Daisy's Dresses."

He turned on the charm. "Hi there, my name is Nick Stokes and I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, with whom am I speaking?"

"Daisy Lewis. What's this call about?"

"In a recent investigation, we discovered a piece of evidence…a white dress embroidered with red and black ladybugs that was purchased from your booth at the Convention Center craft market two weeks ago. I was hoping you might have the time to answer a few questions."

"Um…sure."

He noted her wary tone. "Do you know the name of the custom dollhouse vendor who was at the same event?"

"Yes, she's a friend of mine. Tina Sommerset. Tina's Tiny Houses. Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you the specifics of the investigation, ma'am. Right now I'm just following up on some items." He jotted down the information. "Would you feel comfortable giving me a number for Tina? If not, I can look it up."

"She has a website with her contact information, Tinas Tinies dot com."

"Thank you." He turned to pull it up on the computer while he was talking. "Do you recall anything unusual about the craft market on Sunday, August 7th?"

"Yes!"

He perked up.

"Someone stole my mailing list notebook right from my display table. It had all my customer information."

"Information such as telephone numbers and addresses?" The hairs on his neck stood at alert as he grabbed his cellphone.

"Yes! Man was I ticked. I don't have a copy or anything."

"Did you report it to anyone?"

"No, I figured it was some kid and since it had no monetary value who was going to care?"

"Oh, I definitely care. Could I send an officer out to take an official statement?"

"Sure."

"Thank you, you've been a big help, Ms. Lewis. Expect an officer within the next hour."

As soon as he hung up his desk phone he hit the send button on his cellphone and bolted from his office.

Wendy answered the phone on the first ring. "More questions, Nick?"

Hurrying towards Grissom's office he asked, "Wendy, when you were at the craft market buying that ladybug dress, did you happen to add your information to a mailing list notebook for Daisy's Dresses?"

"Yes."

"Listen to me, Wendy. Do not let McKenna out of your sight and make sure all your windows and doors are locked up tight." He checked his watch.

"Now you're really freaking me out, Nick!"

Speaking quietly he informed her, "I'm sorry. Between you and me, I have reason to suspect the notebook with your address information is in the wrong hands because it's no longer in the right hands."

"You mean it could be in the hands of the…"

"There's no way of knowing, but like I said before…we err on the side of caution, okay?" When he reached Grissom's door he told her, "Hang tight. Before I swing by later I'll grab some stuff and plan on spending the night. I'll call Carrie and let her know to do the same."

"Okay."

"This type of freak won't do anything out in the open. So you just keep her in sight and everything will be fine. I'll call you back soon. Bye."

When he stepped inside Grissom's office Nick announced, "I think I've got something."

**Trace  
****4:25 p.m. **

"Got anything?" Greg inquired of Hodges as he stepped inside the room.

"Disdain for you," He quipped.

"Where's Mabel?"

"Left for the day. Had to take her kid to the orthodontist" He moved over to the printer to grab a fresh report. "I bet you like hearing that, youson of a…dentist."

"I'm telling you up front, I'm not in the mood."

Sarcasm dripping from every word, Hodges retorted, "Since when did you start being so upfront about your mood? Since the stripper?"

"My report." He extended his hand.

Slapping the report in Greg's hand Hodges told him, "Nothing special about the paint. Could buy it at any decent paint shop or mega home store. The only interesting thing is it's heavy duty outdoor paint which seemed odd to me since nice wooden dollhouses usually don't see a lot of snow and hail action."

"Thank you." Greg proceeded to glove up then box up the dollhouse and its parts.

"Going back to your cubby to play dolls?"

"Ignoring you." He kept boxing.

"If you're ignoring me, shouldn't you be stuffing your fingers in your ears and chanting while stomping your feet?

The ring of Greg's cellphone caught both their ears.

Grabbing it he snipped, "Sanders."

"Hi, Greggy. I didn't get to tell you something earlier because you hung up so fast. Is this a better time?"

"Yes." He made a point of smiling at Hodges before turning his back on the pest. Then Greg sweetly said, "What is it, Honey?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Tawny. I'm looking forward to some serious snuggle time tonight."

"Me too. Okay…get back to work, Assistant to the Master! Bye."

When he heard the click from her hanging up, he kept talking. "That sounds fantastic, Princess. Uh huh…" He giggled deviously. "If you're up for it I know I am. Hell yeah. Sure I can stop at the store on the way home and buy whipped cream. Anything else? Cherries? What for? OH! You wanna do that! Then I'd like some hot fudge too because you know how I like it….the hot-ter the bet-ter BABY!"

"Greg!" Grissom's voice boomed into the room. "What the hell? You're supposed to be working a case, not having phone sex!"

"Gris!" He glanced around and saw no sign of Hodges. "I swear…there's no one on the phone. Listen! It's not even connected." He handed it over.

Grissom confirmed there was no one there. "You were having self-stimulating phone sex? And this is supposed to make me feel better?"

"Uh…I was practicing? Letting off some steam? Um…" Stowing the phone he opted to switch subjects. "I have the paint analysis!"

**Sunrise Medical Center  
****Las Vegas  
****4:47 p.m. **

Nurse Sharon Pulaski escorted Sara into Denise Thomas's hospital room stating, "She's heavily sedated."

Aside from the woman asleep in the bed, Sara noted a younger woman sitting in a chair.

The heartbroken woman stood and introduced herself. "I'm Denise's sister, Monica. You're here for my sister's DNA sample?"

"Yes." She stepped forward and showed her ID. "I'm Sara Sidle from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I know this is a difficult time for you. I promise this will just take a minute."

While snapping on a pair of gloves and readying a collection envelope, Sara nervously watched the woman sleeping in bed.

Denise spoke quietly. "I'm still in shock."

"Understandably so," Sara empathized. "It will take a while."

"You sound like you know what it's like to lose a loved one."

Sara removed her tweezers from her kit. "My parents…I was pretty young."

"Ah." Denise returned to her chair. "I miscarried a baby at nine weeks last year and I thought that was the end of the world. But to see my sister lose Brittany after six years…" Tears started to flow. "I just found out yesterday that I'm pregnant again. I was so happy. Now I can't imagine telling my sister. I can't imagine enjoying any of it in front of her. It should be a happy time and now we're all devastated."

With a lump the size of a grapefruit in her throat, Sara approached the patient. "I'll be pulling a couple of strands of your sister's hair by the root. That's how we acquire the sample." She forced herself to focus on the task at hand and not the woman's story.

Holding several tissues to her face, Denise nodded. "Okay."

**McGuire Residence  
****4:54 p.m. **

Grissom and Nick, each with their kits in hand, walked behind Vartann as they approached the home of Tina McGuire, the owner of Tina's Tiny Houses.

As they strolled to the front door, Vartann, in a cocky tone, cautioned, "Hey, I'm not expecting any problems, but Grissom you stay to the side just in case, and Nick…look like you're staying to the side, but have my back."

Nick handed Grissom his kit, preparing to look like he wasn't covering Vartann, while silently cursing the detective for adding yet another stressor to his already overwhelming day…_if you thought there might be a problem then why didn't you bring back up? And if you really don't think there will be a problem, why the hell did you have to say that? Oh, I know…you're messin' with my head because you think I'm a basket case. Thanks, pal…for nothing! Yeah, you know who I really need to thank…Keanu Reeves…because if I hadn't watched that coma-inducing Cloud movie of his last night, I wouldn't have passed out from boredom and had the 15 hours of Z's I needed in order to survive this hellacious day. Thanks, Keanu…for being such a grape stompin' wuss boy in that flick, because if I only had 5 hours in me, I doubt I'd still be standing._

**Sunrise Medical Center  
L****as Vegas  
****4:56 p.m. **

As Sara was exiting the hospital, she saw a sign that she took as a sign…

**Walk-In Clinic**

**Immunizations  
****Pregnancy Testing  
****Confidential HIV Testing**

The middle offer jumped out at her and her mind raced with questions. Just how sensitive are their pregnancy tests? Could they detect hCG nine days post ovulation? Wouldn't some positive baby news on a day fraught with sadness be wonderful? How could Gil be disappointed?

Unable to stop herself, Sara marched straight toward the clinic's door.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 5

**Teaser:** The anxiety will continue to rise for the CSIs and their mates as the case and their personal lives progress. Many characters will be shocked when they're faced with unexpected information/situations.

**Posting:** Skipping the weekend due to Mother's Day. So the next chapter will postTuesday morning.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

Maggs


	6. Losing It Part 6

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 77: Losing It – Part 6**

**August 22, 2005 (Day 122)  
****McGuire Residence  
****4:54 p.m. **

Once they reached the front porch of the single story house, Vartann, Grissom and Nick heard a series of blood curdling screams from inside, which they all silently concurred were coming from a small child.

Without hesitation, Nick and Vartann pulled their guns and the detective forcefully knocked on the door. "Detective Vartann from the Las Vegas Police Department. I need you to open up."

"Sorry! I'll be right there!" A frantic woman's voice yelled from inside the house. "My daughter's favorite doll was found half eaten by the dog! My daughter is hysterical and I'm trying to catch the dog!"

Her words were followed by a little girl's high-pitched shrill. "Buster ate Kirsten's face off!"

Nick lowered his weapon and chuckled, "Don't look at me, Gris, I'm not shootin' the family dog. Vartann can take him out."

The men laughed together as weapons were re-holstered.

When the front door eventually swung open, a frazzled thirty-nine year old woman answered with an irritated four month old infant perched in a Baby Bjorn over her chest. Next to her was a heartbroken six year old girl clutching a Kirsten American Girl Doll, which was now sans face. "Sorry…chaos is common around here. Luckily my sister has my twin three year old boys for another half hour."

"No problem, Mrs. McGuire." Vartann gave a friendly smile. "Like I said a moment ago, I'm Detective Vartann of LVPD and these are my associates from the Crime Lab, Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes. Thank you for your cooperation in our investigation."

"Come on in." The woman stepped back.

**Sunrise Medical Center  
****Las Vegas  
****5:02 p.m. **

As soon as Sara stepped inside the clinic her heart began to race. After a deep breath she walked up to the counter and politely asked a few questions of the young girl dressed in pink scrubs sitting behind the desk. "Excuse me…your pregnancy tests. How strong are they? Can they detect a pregnancy on day twenty of a woman's cycle?"

"Yes, in most cases. If ovulation is standard." The girl handed over a clipboard. "Fill out the form, front and back. We accept cash, debit and credit, no personal checks."

"Thanks." Sara took the clipboard and glanced around for an open chair in the busy waiting room. Finally she spied one in the far corner and hurried over.

Once seated, she snatched the pen from its secured spot under the clipboard fastener and glanced at the form. But as she put her pen to paper, she couldn't help but hear the conversation to her left, between a young girl and the guy she was clutching.

"How much does it say an abortion costs?" The guy asked as he grabbed the pamphlet from the emotional girl.

"There are a couple of places. The prices are different for each one."

"That's easy, we'll go to the cheapest one."

Sara re-clipped the pen to the board and headed for the desk. "Excuse me, I've changed my mind."

The receptionist nodded. "Would you like to take some information with you? We have pamphlets on the wall."

"Great, thanks." Sara bolted for the door.

When she stepped back outside in the hot evening air, she snapped back to reality. What the hell was I thinking? We have a plan…a sweet, normal plan! We're going to make this moment special. I don't want to find out the best news of my life _alone_ in a clinic full of distraught people. And Gil would have felt so betrayed. He'd never do something on the sly and keep it from me. Temporary insanity on a stressful day…that's what it was.

Shaking off her disappointment with herself, Sara headed for her Tahoe.

**Lady Heather's Dominion  
****5:07 p.m. **

Sitting at her ornate desk, Heather held a smile on her face and the phone to her ear. "Jim, you'll be happy to know the letter is being couriered over to Sara's house for a seven p.m. delivery."

"Great, that should give her enough time to get home." Jim's voice carried a hint of trepidation. "Are you sure you were polite in the letter?"

The question pushed the edges of her mouth out a little further. "Absolutely! The epitome of respectful remorse."

"Thanks, Honey."

The term of endearment caught her off guard. "Will I see you tonight? I have a dance class at seven and then I'm free until ten forty-five. A casual dinner perhaps?"

"I'd like that." He exhaled hard through the phone. "We had a hectic day here. You want to meet at that place across the street from your gym like we've done before?"

"Perfect." She snickered as she teased, "I'll wear my disguise so no one recognizes me."

He gave a light laugh. "I'll see you a little after eight then. Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

**County Courthouse  
****5:10 p.m. **

After a full day of testimony and cross examination, Maria Speranza was escorted through the halls by Carrie, while Clive, along with the assigned Victim's Advocate and Maria's mother followed. "Are you still doing okay?" Carrie asked with compassion flowing from her voice.

"Yeah." Maria had her arms wrapped tightly around her body. "I'm really glad I testified."

"We just need a quick debrief and then you can go home and get some rest for tomorrow." Carrie's arm was around the girl's shoulders and she gave her a quick squeeze. "You did great, Sweetie. You're so strong. I'm really proud of you."

From behind Clive announced. "Hey, just so you know, I'm meeting a hottie for drinks at six-thirty, so we need to make this debrief snappy."

If looks could kill Carrie's would have slayed Clive on the spot.

**Crime Lab  
****5:29 p.m. **

After parking her Tahoe, Sara headed towards the lab entrance. Before going home, she needed to log in Mrs. Thomas's DNA sample and drop it off for processing.

When she was half-way through the parking lot Sara saw Greg rushing out the door, heading for the pool of Tahoes she was leaving behind. "Hey!"

He cringed when he saw Sara, but continued walking towards her. "Hey…"

"Do you have a second?"

"I'm meeting the Master in the field so no, but…" He groaned, "I'm really sorry I acted like such an ass earlier. I had a bunch of stuff going through my head, and when you made that crack, it set me off."

"No sweat, Bro." She punched him the arm.

"Ow."

"Irving?"

"Yeah."

Sara smiled sympathetically. "The Master is hurting too. And I'm really sorry for teasing you when you're having a tense day. I should have sensed it wasn't a good time. It's just so rare that you're not up for a joke."

"I know." Tilting his head asked, "So we're cool?"

"As much as two geeks can be, yeah." They shared a laugh and then Sara suggested, "Tell my husband hello for me when you see him in the field, and I'll tell Tawny hello for you when I see her at the gym tonight."

"Deal."

**Greg's Apartment  
****5:29 p.m. **

Tawny was busy in the bedroom packing boxes for the impending move to the townhouse, when she heard the phone ring. After turning down the stereo she grabbed the cordless from the nightstand. "Hello," She answered in her trademark chipper voice.

"Hi, Sweetie," Bev Sanders greeted. "I just spoke to Scott. He's at the airport ready to board his plane. You're safe."

"Yes!" Tawny jubilated by falling back on the mattress. "Greg will be so relieved when I tell him."

"I'm sure." Bev sighed, "For the first time in a while I feel out of the loop. Scott told me Greg's paper is being published, the two of you won thirty grand at a casino, and you're moving into Gil Grissom's townhouse."

"We haven't been keeping any of that from you," She giggled. "It all happened in twenty-four hours! Isn't life SO crazy! Oh and I'm supposed to tell you that Greg paid off his car loan with the money you gave him, so he's free to swap it for yours when we drive out for Labor Day."

"That's a relief. He has a history of spending available cash at Bang & Olufsen."

"I had a feeling. The BeoSound 9000s in both the living room and the bedroom were my first clue, followed by the Beo music software system, BeoSound player and the BeoVision flat screen. The X-box is only piece of the electronics family that shares this apartment with us that's not from Bang & Olufsen." Tawny sighed with delight, "Greggy hid a lot of his toys when his dad stopped by, because he wanted to show him he had new priorities. You should have seen him, he was so happy his dad was proud of his paper. And today Gil selected him to be his right hand man, working a really high profile case. I can't wait to see him tonight!"

"It's comforting to know my boy is in good hands." The joy in Bev's voice matched Tawny's. "And how are you feeling? And how's my grandbaby?"

Gently gliding her hand over her abdomen she replied in a cheery tone, "I'm hurling several times a day, but other than that I feel great. And your grandbaby is definitely growing, because this morning I realized I have a little pooch showing. Greg got a little overwhelmed when he felt it. He's nervous, but I think he's going to a great dad. What do you think?"

"Honestly, I have a hard time picturing my baby as a dad." Bev chuckled. "Maybe it's because I've never seen him interact with small children. I know he hasn't ever changed a diaper or babysat. I'm not sure he's even held a baby in his entire life. The more I think about it, he's in for a shock."

**McGuire Residence  
5****:50 p.m. **

By the time Greg arrived, Vartann had left and Grissom was standing in the living room with Nick going over their game plan. "Hey, I got here as fast as I could." After setting down his kit, he extended a file. "I have the photos you requested and the paint chips."

"Great." Grissom took the photo file from his hand to peruse it.

"I saw Sara in the parking lot, and she said to say hello."

Nick grabbed his cellphone and saw he had no messages. "Damn, I'd settle for a secondhand hello today. Carrie's been tied up in court and I haven't been able to talk to her. I called her a dozen times just to hear her voice on her message." Instantly he hung his head in shame. "I can't believe I just fessed up to that in front of the two of you. As if I haven't given people enough to razz me about today. Now I'm stalking my fiancée."

Greg jumped in questioning the validity of the statement. "Can you technically stalk your fiancée? By accepting your proposal…"

"We'll debate this later, gentlemen." Grissom pointed to his watch. "Your time is up, Nick. And Greg, I have a lot for you to do here." When he saw Nick's hesitation he added, "I promise I'll call you if there are any breaks in the case, but you're not allowed to work it or show up at the lab for twelve hours."

"Okay, okay…I'm going." Brass had insisted he clock out at six p.m. sharp, for mandatory decompression, until six the next morning. Since it was a hell of a lot better than having his emotional outburst documented, which would force mandatory sessions with a PEAP counselor, he took the deal without complaint. "I'm swinging by my place, then I'll be at Wendy's all night." When he saw Grissom's reaction, he explained, "I know it sounds a little paranoid, but with Paul out of town and that mailing list book missing, I'll feel better if I'm there."

Greg smiled approvingly. "Very responsible and dependable of you."

"That's right." Nick headed for the door. "I'll be in at six a.m. Chuckles, don't be late for the conformist morning routine at seven."

"I'll be there with bells on my clown shoes."

Grissom pointed in the direction of the back door with one hand as he returned the file of photos to Greg. "Tina McGuire is in the backyard with her children. I want you to go out there and show her the photos of the dollhouse and the photo we have of Brittany from her father…don't show any morgue shots. After…" He pointed to a door at the end of the room. "That's the entrance to her workshop. Meet me in there."

"Got it." Greg hurried through the home and out the back door. When he stepped into the yard he saw two small boys running around in circles screaming, a little girl crying while clutching a faceless doll, and a woman standing on the patio bouncing a shrieking baby in her arms. "Uh…I'm Greg Sanders with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I'm here to ask a few questions but, this seems like a bad time."

Tina glanced over. "No…this is average for us." The horrified look on the obviously childless young man's face made her laugh. "Don't be afraid to come near the baby and I. Only the boys bite."

Greg approached the lady and her shrilling infant with a feigned comfort level. "I have some photos for you to review." He placed them on the patio table and then spoke above the infant's wail. "Do you recall making this dollhouse? Or seeing this little girl?" His eyes focused on the red-faced inconsolable baby. "Does she always cry that hard?"

"She has colic," Tina explained to the clueless guy. "All you can do is ride it out. It ends right around six-fifteen like clockwork."

"Oh…colic…right." Greg nodded while imagining coming home from work and finding Tawny holding their frantic baby. The image rattled him. "Colic…kind of has an Exorcist quality about it, huh? I mean she seems possessed. I don't mean she's evil…she's really cute. It's just that…"

"You don't have kids." Laughing she glanced down at the photos.

"Not yet, but I'll have one in seven months." Saying it out loud sent a shiver down his spine.

"From the look on your face I'd say you're in for a shock." Shaking her head she informed the investigator, "I didn't build this dollhouse and thinking of the other custom builders I know, I can't recall anyone mentioning working on something like this either."

"MOM!" The little girl screamed. "Henry has a bloody nose!"

Tina turned and saw her boy's nose running red and his brother using his t-shirt to wipe it "Shoot! Uh…I don't have the bouncy seat out here to put down the baby." Eyeing the father-to-be she sweetly asked, "Would you mind holding her while I handle them? Her name is Abby. Thanks!"

"Uh…" Before he could answer, the frustrated four-month old was in his hands and its mother rushing off with her two boys in tow. "Hi, Abby. This is good…I need the practice." He dangled the hysterical baby awkwardly out in front of him and watched her arms and legs flail. "I've never held a baby before. I've seen it on TV though."

The infant's cry escalated to a new extreme.

"Not good." Realizing he wasn't holding her securely, Greg decided to try a different position. "Here we go…maybe this way." He wrangled the infuriated baby into the crook of his left arm. "I have to be honest…you're not making a very good first impression on me. You're uh…scaring the hell out of me frankly." Attempting to comfort the exasperated baby in his arms he was terrified by its quivering body parts, nonstop tears, and intense distress. "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm going to have one of you in seven months. I have no clue how to take care of a baby." When the baby cried harder still, he picked up the pace of his bounce. "Too bad Nick left, because he'd be fine with this…he's the dependable, responsible one. Kids and girls love him. He oozes a strong _you're safe with me little lady _vibe. Me, my name is Greg by the way…I'm the lovable goof, but you don't seem to be lovin' me, and I don't think you're in the mood for a joke, so..."

"Greg?" Grissom approached. "I heard screaming in the kitchen and…"

"Master! I need mentoring!" He shouted. "Have you ever held one of these?"

"Once." Grissom walked over with a puzzled expression on his face. "What's going on?"

"The mom asked me to hold her while she took care of her son's bloody nose." Greg extended the bawling baby. "You try."

"The mom asked you, not me." He backed away from the rabid-looking infant. "Did she ID the photos yet?"

Shouting over the escalating cry, Greg answered, "The dollhouse isn't hers or anyone she knows." His eardrum vibrated from the most recent round of screams. "Can you believe the lung capacity on this kid! Wow…is it wrong for me not to like this? Because I'm not liking it. Should I like this? Do real parents enjoy this? Or is it something they fake? I'm not feeling anything positive here."

"Well, it's not your child, so it's normal not to feel attached. If it were your child then you'd feel differently." He chuckled at the memory of Sara holding her scratched out eye at the Blake's house while cursing their baby and calling it a demon. "At least that's what Wendy told Sara when she wasn't bonding with her daughter, Ashley."

Greg replied in an unsettled tone, "Let's hope the paternity test goes in my favor then." The tiny girl in his arms sobbed harder.

The feeling of his foot inserted deeply into his mouth choked Grissom into silence.

"It's okay." Greg forced a smile when he saw the awkward expression on Grissom's face.

"What I meant was…this is a _stranger's _child. Since you love Tawny, her baby would…" Seeing Greg's anxiety intensifying, Grissom reached out. "Here…I'll take her."

As soon as the baby was in Grissom's arms, three things happened…Abby stopped fussing, Grissom felt an overwhelming desire to have one of his own as soon as possible, and Greg grew exponentially more insecure about his ability to parent any baby, especially not his biological child.

"Her name is Abby." Running his hand through his hair Greg nervously blurted, "Wow…she's a lot happier now. I guess I'm not cut out for the job."

Feeling it best to remove him from the situation, Grissom directed his forlorn co-worker. "Why don't you go inside and start collecting paint samples in the hobby room."

"On it." He hustled away.

Once Greg was gone, Grissom beamed a smile at the delicate child in his arms. "Hello, Abby. This is only the second time I've done this. I hope to have a baby soon with my wife, Sara, so I could use the practice. Thank you for being such a cooperative test subject."

"I'm back!" Tina announced as she rushed over. "Thank you for helping. Most days I need at least two more sets of arms." She smiled in reaction to the happiness on the investigator's face. "You're a natural. How many kids do you have?"

"None yet," He quietly replied while continuing to sway the infant. "But my wife and I are hoping for some good news this month. Your daughter is beautiful."

"You say that now because it's after six-fifteen and the Colic Hell hour is over." Reaching over she rescued the kind man from his babysitting duty. "I think she likes you because you're wearing glasses and have a beard, so does my husband. Don't tell your co-worker, but I think his hair freaked her out." Holding her baby, Tina focused on the photos again. "I do recognize the little girl. She was at the last craft fair playing with my sample houses while her parents spoke to me about building a house for her this Christmas." Suddenly concerned she inquired, "What happened to her? Is she missing?"

Somberly he informed her, "No, I'm afraid she's deceased."

Tina clutched her daughter. "Oh God. Her parents were the nicest people and she was the sweetest little girl."

**The Grisssoms'  
****6:30 p.m. **

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror Sara reviewed her appearance in her sports bra and running shorts while determining if she really had the guts to dance exotically in front of a room full of women, most of whom were probably well-endowed professionals. Smirking, she remembered her husband's thoughts on her ability, which definitely helped boost her confidence…_I know first hand you have the right moves, Boom Boom, and your six-pack is state of the art…your friends will be shocked when they see what lies beneath your shirt for the first time._

After a few more minutes of psyching herself up, she grabbed the t-shirt she had on the counter and threw it over her bra. "It's one hour, how bad could it be?"

With that, she made a beeline for the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water to drink on the ride to the gym.

**The Fitness Den  
****6:40 p.m. **

When Carrie pulled into the gym parking lot she was grateful to see Tawny, already dressed for class and waiting right where she said she would be.

With a smile plastered on her face, Tawny approached her friend's silver Volkswagen Jetta and when the door opened she taunted, "Ready to shake it, Baby?"

Tense from her mentally taxing day Carrie groaned, "Actually the old me would rather go home and sip a glass of wine while reading a good book, but I committed to this and I never break my commitments."

"Lucky for Nick." She remarked. "He won't have to worry about you leaving him stranded at the church."

"Not a chance." She grabbed her gym bag from the trunk. "Hell, after spending a day with my arrogant and insensitive co-worker Clive, I'm ready to kiss Nick's feet when I get home tonight."

Tawny hurried to give her friend advice. "Just make sure he showers real well first, because one time, I went to suck this guy's toes and he had gunk…"

"I was speaking metaphorically." Carrie shuddered at the thought. "Yeah…you can definitely skip that erotica lesson, because I know what Nick's workboots smell like after a long day. Not to mention he has a year's supply of Odor Eater's and foot spray stashed at home. Yeah…it's not happening. If he can have limitations in the bedroom, so can I."

"I know where you're coming from," She casually replied, "I'm fine with toes, but there's one other part of a guy's body my mouth never gets near."

With a wink Carrie responded to Tawny's declaration with a play on words, "Yeah, I've never been much of an ass-kisser either, especially at work."

Laughing she asked, "Hey, you said you work with someone named Clive? His last name wouldn't be _Braxley_ would it?"

"Ugh, yes!" Carrie tossed her bag over her shoulder. "Why? Do you know him? Oh no…please tell me you didn't." Gaping at the girl next to her she pleaded, "No…no…no…NO…please tell me you did **not **sleep with Clive Braxley."

Chomping on her bottom lip she confessed with regret, "Twice actually."

"TWICE!" Carrie's pulse jumped twenty points. "_Once_ wasn't enough for you to catch on that he's a textbook asshole? Oh god…come here." She gave her hug. "You really were looking for love in all the wrong places prior to Chuckles."

"Yeah…" Tawny somberly informed her distraught friend. "There's no denying Clive's a looker, and he had a really hot car, so when he offered to take me out for a fantastic night on the town I jumped at the chance. Then, when we were out, he spent a ton on a dinner and champagne. So, later when he suggested we get a room at the Mirage, I felt obligated. The two times were in the same night though!" She excitedly informed her disgusted friend. "And I really didn't want to the second time, but since I had already done the deed with him, and he was such a _wham, bam, thank you ma'am_ _guy,_ I figured it was easier to do it than make a scene. He never called me again."

"Promise me you know better now." Carrie stepped back. "Dinner doesn't buy anyone an all-access pass to your body, girlfriend. Not even Greg."

At that point Tawny was _really_ glad she never shared the Krispy Kreme story with Carrie. "I promise." Side by side they walked into the gym. "I'm so glad that part of my life is behind me. Every day I thank my lucky stars for Greg showing up on my doorstep. Not only do I have the sweetest guy in the world, I have a new mom too." Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, "I thought Mrs. Sanders was cool for treating me to the makeover and shopping spree, but now she calls me every day to check in on me and the baby. We can talk about anything. I haven't had a parent to confide in since my dad died. And today, when she was about to hang up she said, _love you, Sweetie_. See…she loves me too."

With her arm around her friend's shoulder Carrie replied, "What's not to love?"

"And when I said it back to her, she suggested I start calling her Mom." Tawny looked to her friend for guidance. "Do you think it's weird that I love my boyfriend's mom almost as much as I love him?"

"Not under the circumstances." They stopped at the desk to run their membership cards over the scanner.

"Good…I feel better now."

"Have you heard from Sara?" Glancing around the busy establishment Carrie looked for the missing person in the trio.

"Earlier. She said she couldn't get through to you so she called me to make sure we were still on." Tawny led the way to the locker room. "She said she was definitely coming and she has the guest pass I gave her." Tawny was relieved it was a Monday class Sara was trying because Tuesday and Thursday were Lady Heather's days.

"Hey, Miss Kansas!" Vic Lamuro shouted out from his position next to the leg press. Knowing Tawny was spoken for now, he gave up trying on her and eyed her friend.

"Hey, Vic!"

"Introduce me to your fashionable friend." He winked at the cute woman in the trendy suit and pumps.

Carrie froze as she realized not only was a cute guy checking her out, but everyone in the immediate area was watching the process.

Tawny broke the bad news, "Sorry, Vic, she's sportin' a rock on the left. Nick Stokes is her fiancé. He's a fellow gym rat. You probably know him."

"Slick Nick is settling down? Great!" He smiled and turned to rack another hundred-plate on the press. "That frees up some women for the rest of us."

Tawny pulled Carrie toward the locker room. "Vic is a really nice guy and did you see his bod? Nick would kill for his guns, wouldn't he?"

"Let me guess…you never slept with Vic."

"No." She shook her head. "He asked me out a few times but I declined."

Not surprised, Carrie inquired, "Because he's a nice guy?"

Wrinkling her nose she admitted the sad truth, "Yeah…and because he didn't have a lot of cash."

"Fits the pattern." Carrie walked into the locker room with slumped shoulders. "Girl gets abused and is overcome with guilt, which causes her to lose self-esteem. Then she becomes hyper-sexualized, doesn't feel worthy of nice guys, but says yes to ever bum who gives her the time of day. As the years pass she wonders why she can't find a guy who treats her well."

"Sounds like my life story." Tawny guided her over to her locker. "Until Chuckles of course. Yep! I _finally_ caught me a winner and now I'm set for life."

Although the phrase _caught me a winner and now I'm_ _set for life_, slightly disturbed Carrie in a _got pregnant to_ _trap a guy, so he would have to take care of me _sort of way, she let it go. Greg and Tawny were obviously happy with the outcome so she figured why belabor the circumstances. "Have you spoken to Greg? Did he say how work was, because I haven't spoken to Nick yet."

Tawny stared at Carrie. "I talked to him four times. Don't think it's odd not to talk to your fiancé all day?"

"No." She quickly disrobed and started dressing in her workout clothes. "With our workload, a lot of days we don't see or talk to each other until ten at night."

"Do you think Greg will start working that late too?" Tawny frowned. "I just got used to having him on the same schedule as me.

"Greg's only going to get busier as he gets more responsibility at work. The only time Nick and I absolutely count on seeing each other is Saturday four o'clock p.m. until work Monday morning. That's our special time. Other than that, it's career first, unless of course something urgent and personal comes up, then we'd drop everything for one another." Carrie pulled on her peach padded sports bra. "What do you think? Will I blend? Am I hitting a C in this?"

"C minus," She teased. "Carrie…at the risk of sounding pathetically immature, I have to say, sometimes you and Nick sound like such serious grown ups it bums me out."

"It's not pathetic." Carrie assured her with a smile. "You just turned twenty-two. You should be at college living it up. I'm at a different place in life. I'll be thirty-one in December. I'm done with school and I'm trying to hit a certain mark in my career, which means I have to put in the hours. Plus, I'm getting married, settling down and thinking about a family. I need to be a serious grown-up a good portion of the time."

"Since you're the same age as Greg, I guess he should be at the same place too."

While she twisted up her hair Carrie answered, "Guys are always behind. Nicky didn't settle down from his frat boy ways until he was thirty-four. However, because you and Greg have a baby on the way, you're unfortunately going to have to expedite the process. But you've sowed all your wild oats, right?"

"Hell, yeah, I was on the accelerated plan and I know for a fact there isn't a better guy out there than my guy, so what would be the point?" As she grabbed her stilettos from her locker a thought hit her. "But what if Greg hasn't? I kind of got the impression from Sara that Greg was just starting to live it up this year. You know…new job, new car, dating more…"

Before Carrie could answer, Sara rushed into the locker room. "Sorry! My car wasn't turning over. I really thought I wasn't going to make it. And after the day we had at work I'm actually looking forward to releasing a little steam. Then I had to fill out the guest member paper at the desk." Looking at Carrie she said, "I'm a little surprised to see you here after what Nick went through this morning."

"What?" Carrie knitted her brow. "I haven't spoken to him, what happened?"

"Oh. Sorry…I thought you knew." Sara lowered her bag on the bench. Now she felt bad for being the one to tell her, but realized she'd have to tell her the truth or Carrie would careen into a full-on panic. "He got called to a scene and the vic was eerily similar to McKenna, even wearing the same ladybug dress she had on at church yesterday. When he saw the vic, he um…" She glanced around first and then whispered, "…flipped out."

Carrie's voice filled with distress. "Flipped out? How bad?"

"He had to be wrestled away by two cops because he was hysterical. When they let him go, Greg had to chase him down." She looked at Tawny. "Did he tell you anything about that part?"

"I didn't know this happened at all." Perplexed by the news she added, "He sounded a little stressed on one phone call we had, but he was fine the other times."

In a panic Carrie stuffed her clothes in her bag. "Now I feel terrible that I didn't check my voicemail. I had a bunch. He was probably wanted to talk to me about it. I'm sorry, I know the only reason you came here was for me but, do you mind if I skip class, Sara?"

"No, not at all." Sara soothed, "Please don't worry though, I saw him after the incident and he looked fine. When I asked him how he was, he said he was doing okay. I think he's just a little uncomfortable with the fact it played out in front of so many guys at the scene."

"Yeah, but sometimes what Nicky _says _and what's really going on inside his head, are two completely different things. He's real good at fronting. He's been practicing since he was nine." Grabbing her bag she tore out of the locker room. "Thanks for understanding girls."

"I guess it's just you and me," Tawny smiled. "Ready to bump and grind, Baby?"

"Do I have to take off my t-shirt?"

"No. A lot of newbies wear bulky clothes, then as the weeks pass and they get into it they're shedding layers without a care in the world."

"Okay then." Sara tossed her stuff in an empty locker and snapped her padlock closed. "Let's hit it, Sis."

As soon as they strolled through the back door of the locker room into the dance studio, Lady Heather entered the locker room from the front door.

Mimi, one of the Monday night regulars called over, "Lady H what are you doing here on a Monday? You've only been to a handful of Mondays over the years."

"Huge convention coming to town tomorrow and I'll be swamped." She opened her locker. "So I came tonight." While shedding her clothes, her cellphone rang, and when she saw it was her assistant, who knew better than to disturb her here unless it was urgent, she groaned, "Wonderful, now I'll be late for class."

**The Blakes'  
****6:55 p.m. **

When Nick rounded the final corner toward the Blake home his cellphone rang, but before he could grab it from his bag, he noticed something odd. A blond-haired man approximately in his late-twenties, dressed in khakis and a navy blue polo shirt, was standing across the street from Wendy's house snapping photographs. On a dime he screeched his Xterra to a halt and jumped out to confront the suspicious photographer. "Excuse me. Why are snapping pictures of that house?"

"Get out of my face, Psycho!" Incensed, the guy lowered his camera and yelled, "What are you cruisin' the streets looking for somebody to pick a fight with? Get back in your truck before I call 911."

"I am LVPD." He grabbed his ID and flashed it. "Now answer my question."

"It's not a crime to take photos in public," He barked.

"It is if you're using a zoom and taking snapshots of little girls in their bedrooms to sell as porn."

"What!" The man was floored. "Are you calling me a pervert!"

Eyeing him warily Nick repeated, "No, I'm asking you for the third time, why are snapping pictures of that house?"

"I'm a realtor." Reaching into his pants pocket the man produced a business card. "I'm taking listing shots for_ that _house across the street."

Nick noted the man pointed to the house to the right of Wendy's.

"Happy? Look, if you don't believe me you can go knock on the door and ask the Gleasons. I also have a signed listing contract sitting on the front seat of my car…the blue BMW right over there. Go look at it."

Nick looked at the business card. "Mind walking with me, Mr. Connors?"

"I'd love too." The man proceeded to the car and pointed to the passenger seat. "It's right there. Just signed fifteen minutes ago."

Nick glanced in and saw the man was telling the truth. "Why didn't you just answer my question truthfully if you had nothing to hide?"

Dan Connors snapped, "Because last time I checked I wasn't living in a Totalitarian state."

"Yeah…people like you make my job just that much harder."

Because McKenna had been watching out the window for Nick, Wendy saw the confrontation and was out the door and crossing the street with Ashley on her hip and McKenna's hand in hers. "What's going on? Is everything okay, Nick?"

"Uncle Nicky!"

"Are your neighbors, the Gleasons, selling their house, Wendy?" He scooped up McKenna. "Hey there little lady." Seeing her and holding her, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Yes, they are," Wendy immediately replied. "Harvey is being transferred to Des Moines."

Dan grumbled, "Told you so, Tough Guy."

"Ready to tea party, Uncle Nicky?" McKenna cinched her arms around her uncle's neck.

"I sure am." Glancing over his shoulder he said, "Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Connors. Hope the listing goes for full price." Nick strolled away sheepishly explaining to Wendy, "I saw him snapping pictures and thought maybe he was gonna use them _to build something_."

"Ah." Wendy eyed her high-strung protector. "I think you need a whisky in your pretty pink tea cup."

Squeezing McKenna tight he sighed, "I think I do too."

"You're not packing are you?" She worried about guns on a calm day, but with Nick on edge it was the last thing she wanted under her roof.

"No, ma'am. No guns in the house with your kids, I know the drill."

**The Fitness Den  
****7:00 p.m. **

After peeling her eyes off Divine, the Cardio Strip instructor, a stunning thirty year-old African American woman who stood at six feet with her heels on, and had a perfectly sculpted body, Sara continued glancing nervously around the room at all the women chit-chatting. There had to be fifty females packing the place…women from all different walks of life with drastically diverse body types. Clearly not everyone in the room was a stripper by trade. It also appeared that Tawny knew every person in the class and they all seemed to adore her and know all about Greg and the baby. One of them, a stay-at-home mom of three named Joan, even gave Tawny a shopping bag of her used baby books to keep.

In the microphone Divine announced, "Hey everybody, Miss Kansas brought a friend tonight, let's give it up for Sara! It's her first time shakin' it here!"

The ladies clapped and Sara died of embarrassment as she snipped at Tawny. "You didn't tell me you told her my name!"

"She always introduces new girls. Everyone knows everyone here, Sara…just chill. It's a friendly group, not catty. And stop worrying, you'll be great."

Sara turned and waved while wishing that Nick had reserved his nervous breakdown for another time, so Carrie's name would have been announced too. Then she'd have a fellow newbie to share the dubious honor of _shakin' it here for the first time. _

"Let's warm it up girls." Divine whooped into the microphone. "Sara, Honey, it may feel silly when you start, but just let it flow, girlfriend. Embrace your sexuality. It's all about feeling good about your body, ain't that the truth, ladies!" They yelled back as usual. "Yeah…feeling confident about yourself no matter what society thinks you have to look like! Big boobs, little boobs, chunky middle, skinny ass…it doesn't matter in here, right girls! It feels good no matter what, and when you take it home to that special man or woman in your life, or do it for yourself in front of the mirror…it's _hot_! Let me adjust the volume on the stereo, and then we're good to go!"

Sara tapped Tawny on the shoulder. "I think Carrie would like this instructor, she's got a nice empowerment vibe with no negative stereotyping about body image or sexual preference. Because frankly, I was a little worried that Carrie would blow a gasket if the instructor came out and said, let's learn how to shake it for men, because the only thing that matters is how you look and if you'll put out."

Tawny burst out laughing. "Yeah…I never would have invited her if that was the vibe. I'm blond but I'm not stupid."

When the ladies started whistling Sara turned her attention toward the entrance at the far side of the room. "No. _No way."_ She was desperate to believe her mind or her eyes were playing a trick on her.

"Oh!" Tawny's hands flew to her mouth as she thought, she never comes on Mondays!

Divine gave a catcall. "Well hello, Milady! Look who's gracing us with her presence on a humble Monday. Vegas's Queen of Leather."

In her trademark bravado Heather greeted, "I left the boys tied up at home, so I could come and dance with all you wonderful women." Her eye was caught by a brilliant white t-shirt across the room. Then she realized who was wearing it.

One look at Heather dressed in a black sports bra and tiny matching shorts and Sara did the only thing that came to mind.

"WOO HOO!" Divine whistled into the microphone. "Sara tossed her t-shirt! Didn't take her long to get into the spirit! Alright here we go girls…let's grind!"

Tawny gasped. "Check out the six-pack, Sara! Who knew that was hiding under there?" The shock was enough for her to forget the potential cat-fight brewing.

"Kickboxing," Sara affirmed with a sharp nod as she eyed the enemy. "It's my usual thing. But I have a feeling you're about to be surprised by how well I apply myself to becoming the best damn exotic dancer this class has ever seen."

From across the room Heather watched Sara glaring at her. Realizing it was just after seven she knew her apology letter had not been received. Unable to leave the class inconspicuously, because of her notoriety in it, she decided she would stick it out and approach Sara at the end of the hour to offer her sincere apology in person.

Sara stewed while thinking…if that bitch has any plans to corner me and berate me, she's got another thing coming. This time I'm not waiting to play defense. No, I've learned my lesson TWICE! I'm taking the offensive position and shutting her down before she gets a chance to humiliate me like she's done in the past…just like Miranda did…just like Suzie. Today's the day Sara Sidle finally stops taking shit from Mean Girls and gives some of her own!

With something to prove, Sara found it much easier to gyrate publicly than she had believed possible. "How am I doing, Tawny?" Following the instructors cues Sara eased into the steady grind.

"Honestly…I'm stunned." Tawny gawked at her friend. "While I know you and Gil have it going on privately. I thought you'd be a total prude in public." Then she couldn't help but wonder, "What do you think of my ability?"

Forgetting her mortal enemy's presence for a moment Sara grinned, "Let's just say I understand why Greg has had a little more spring in his step since the day he met you."

Balancing on one foot she ever-so-slowly raised her leg until her calf grazed her ear. "Yeah…Chuckles appreciates my flexibility."

Divine shouted into the microphone. "Look at Miss Kansas showing off for her friend. Girl…are you sure you're doing that at home for Greggy? How could the man not slap a ring on your finger yet, if you're pulling that one out of your bag of tricks?"

"He's just waiting for the right time!" She shouted back. "I'm not worried!"

Sara glared over at Lady Heather thinking…yeah, another couple is about to take the plunge into Victorian normalcy, that must really piss you off. Then she accented her thought by sticking out her ass in rhythm with the music. Kiss this, Honey.

**McGuire Residence  
****7:10 p.m. **

As Greg was packing up his truck, Grissom walked over. "You sure you're okay?"

"You mean about the baby hating me?" He faked a laugh while falling apart on the inside. "Yeah…like you said, it was my hair and the fact that I was tense. She could sense it. You're in gung-ho daddy mode and she knew it. I have no doubt you're going to be great at it too. Yeah…he or she is going to be one lucky kid having your and Sara for parents…dependable, responsible, stable, intelligent…a total gold mine."

"You've got plenty of time, Greg….seven months. Don't try to tell me you're not a fast learner, I know better." He knew the guy was still smarting with self-doubt. "You're being too hard on yourself. And stop comparing yourself to Nick or me. We all have our strengths and our weaknesses.

His tone turned snarky. "Like you not telling Sara the truth about Jim's mystery lady? That's pretty weak." Shutting the back door he lowered his head. "I can't believe that just popped out. I'm sorry, even though bothering me that I'm covering for you, I shouldn't have said it. It's none of my business why you made that decision. I'm really out of it today from the case and…"

"You've been asked to hide the truth, so I can hardly get upset at you for throwing it in my face. I appreciate you keeping Heather's identity quiet." Grissom solemnly nodded. "And on Saturday Jim will tell Sara and we can all move on. It's ridiculous for it to be taking this long…or that this animosity exists between Sara and Heather in the first place."

"Is it?" Greg asked his burning question. "Why didn't you do something about it, when it happened the first time? Obviously you know how I reacted when Hodges berated Tawny. I admit I went too far, but you did nothing after Lady Heather verbally attacked Sara the first time and then it happened a second time and you _still_ did nothing. I don't understand that."

Grissom promptly defended his inaction, "That was Sara's choice, not mine. She requested that I stay away from her. So I couldn't attempt to communicate with Heather without going against Sara's wishes, which means I've not had an opportunity to address it. That's what doesn't make sense to me, Sara is such a strong, intelligent woman I don't understand why she let's Heather get to her in the first place, when she logically knows the woman has no bearing in our life together."

"I do." With an uncharacteristic edge in his voice Greg remarked, "Since we're being disarmingly honest with one another on this day when our nerves are shot, I'll tell you. After seeing her in action twice, I think Heather is a real bitch. She's someone who enjoys cutting other people down…especially vulnerable people. I hate that. I make it a policy in life not to do that. I mean…a guy is minding his own business and some girl feels compelled to tear him down as callously and as publicly as possible. Why? Is it pathological? A hunger that needs to be fed, like our killer needed to feast on that innocent little girl?" Resentment building quickly he snapped, "Unlike a murderer physically taking a life, I think these _super bitch types_ thrive on psychologically destroying people."

Since Greg was vacillating between speaking about Sara and himself, Grissom thought it best to let him vent and continued to listen without interrupting.

"There was a guy in my school so terrorized by this group of vicious girls and their jock boyfriends that he gave up thinking his life would ever get better, so one day he swallowed a bunch of pills and booze to finally escape." Greg postured and huffed, "I know you've told us you were a ghost in school so maybe you didn't notice this stuff going on. I think that's why you can't empathize on this one. I think some girls, like Heather, can't shake the rush they used to get from doing this stuff in school, so they do it for the rest of their lives. I saw Heather in action that night with Sara, remember? She may have been a wonderful person with you, but that night she was calculating and rotten to the core." Pointing at himself Greg reminded Grissom, "I was the one who followed Sara out of there to make sure she'd be okay. I followed her because I cared. She was really torn up. And I would have returned to give that bitch a piece of my mind if I thought Brass wasn't doing it himself, but the other night when I realized he didn't defend Sara…I took care of it."

It was obvious to Grissom that the subject struck a nerve with Greg. "Like I've told you before, I really appreciate you looking out for her that night."

"I thought Brass was looking out for her too." His arms tightly folded across his chest Greg continued his rant. "I can't for the life of me understand what he sees in her unless he's in it strictly for the kink." Tossing up his arms he groaned, "Whatever…now I've gone way too far with this." Clutching his forehead he attempted to excuse his behavior, "I'm not myself today. I'm a little out of it…sometimes I get…" In a remorseful tone he pleaded, "I'm sorry…can we please just forget this conversation ever happened?"

"Sure." Grissom agreed, empathizing with the feeling of wanting an emotional issue to disappear rather than be addressed. He was certain Dr. Myers would be disappointed in the choice.

"Thanks for the latitude, Gris." Grabbing his keys he stated, "I'm ready to take off. See you back at the lab."

While analyzing the supposedly forgotten conversation, Grissom watched Greg drive away.

**Outside the Blake Home  
****7:12 p.m. **

Dan Connors had just finished hanging his **For Sale** shingle in front of the Gleasons' home, when he noticed a guy taking photos across the street. "Hey!" He called out. "You better not let the psycho guy who lives next door catch you taking pictures," He joked. "Which house are you listing?" Much to his surprise, before he got an answer to his question the guy took off running down the block.

"This neighborhood is crawling with whackjobs," He muttered while returning to his car. "Hopefully they'll all stay out of sight until this house sells."

* * *

Next Chapter: Losing It - Part 7

Teaser: Lady H and Sara collide. And did you ever wonder how Tawny and Greg's infamous 'first date' really went?

Posting: Thursday morning.

Sorry this chapter was delayed. This website was down for a while and then I accidentally loaded a draft version of the chapter and needed to wait for it to be removed.

Thanks for reading,

Maggs


	7. Losing It Part 7

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 78: Losing It – Part 7**

**August 22, 2005 (Day 122)  
****The Blakes  
****7:14 p.m. **

Wendy was in the kitchen putting the final touches on Nick's dinner while he played tea party at the table with McKenna. Across from them, Sean was embroiled in an Entomology text. "How's Uncle Nicky's tea cup, McKenna?" She cheerily inquired.

"All the stinky tea you poured him is gone."

Wendy laughed along with Nick and Sean. "Good!" She had filled it with Paul's best whisky. "Your delicious dinner of protein and complex carbs, will be ready in five minutes. The kids ate earlier before I dropped off Ryan at his friend's house for the night."

"Smells great." Nick finally eased up a bit. "Thanks for spoiling me, Wendy."

"Well…I know you're the baby in your family, so I figure you probably miss it every once in a while."

McKenna eyed him in disbelief. "I can't believe you were ever a baby, Uncle Nicky. Aunt Carrie can't believe it too."

Curious about her daughter's comment, Wendy asked, "What makes you say that, Sweetie?"

"Because I hear her tell you how big and strong Uncle Nicky's body is all the time."

Quietly laughing, Nick grabbed his pink plastic tea cup to get a refill. "Definitely time for seconds."

Little McKenna kept on talking. "Mommy, I know you and Aunt Carrie think it's silly 'cause one time I heard her tell you that Uncle Nicky is the biggest guy she ever had, and you both giggled real loud."

Sean buried his face in the large text trying not to show his amusement, or comprehension of the subject matter.

"McKenna, can you go peek in on the baby and make sure she's still sleeping!" Wendy hung her head in shame. "Kids…they hear everything except what they're supposed to. And they get the details wrong all the time. Carrie said you were the biggest **sweetheart **she ever had."

With a flushed face Nick poured another shot of whisky into his play cup and changed the subject. "You're sure you alarmed the house, right?"

"Yes, we're on Red Alert status and fully alarmed." She was glad to be moving along to a new disturbing conversation.

When the kitchen phone rang, Wendy grabbed it and noted it was Carrie calling…but she didn't tell her wound-up house guest. "Hi there. I need to talk to you but, hang on a second, please." Handing over a plate full of steaming stir-fry veggies and teriyaki Salmon she smiled, "Enjoy. My friend is on the phone about organizing a charity event. I'm going to take it in the other room. I'll probably be a little while."

"Thanks, Wendy." Nick took the plate and returned to the table.

Once his mother was gone, Sean tossed his book and pulled out the rope he had hidden under his shirt. "Okay, tie me up!"

Nick lowered his first bite of food before it reached his mouth. "Sure thing, Buddy. An easy one to start."

After she darted out into the living room Wendy spoke about her charity case. "Yes, your fiancé is here, and he is a bundle of nerves. He's staying the night too, so pack a bag. But look…you need to chill out before you get here. You need to show up and focus on calming down Nick, not making him tenser. He's in _protection overdrive_. Does the man_ ever_ stop worrying about you?"

"It's partly his personality, but it's my father's fault too." Carrie released a labored sigh. "Obviously, you're well aware how protective my dad is of me."

"Intimately, since your dad called here daily after you moved, making sure we were keeping an eye on you."

"When Nicky and I flew out there after getting engaged, Dad told him, that as my fiancé and future husband, he was now responsible for keeping me safe. Of course Dad went on and on about the past, and how too much has happened to me, to ever let something bad happen to me again. After an hour of seriously putting the fear of God into Nick, he assured my dad he would protect me at all costs…even die for me if the situation ever arose. Dad ended up crying, which choked up Nick. Then I see Nicky wiping a tear and start bawling my eyes out, because these two men love me so much. It was a scene, believe me. But yeah…it's safe to say Nick left Seattle twice as tense."

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Wendy sweetly said, "Paul was the same way with me because of my past with Mike Rodgers. You're going to have to do the same thing with Nick that I did with your brother years ago. Teach him it's okay to relax and decompress around you when he needs to let off some steam." She giggled slightly. "Here's the analogy I used with Paul…just like we take turns being on top in bed, we can take turns being on top mentally."

Carrie laughed hard into the phone. "You have no idea how timely that information is."

Wendy continued her lesson. "You need to make him understand that you can carry the mental burden for the two of you, while he takes a night off. He probably had his own way of decompressing after a rough day before you came along. Like Paul used to play racquetball several evenings during the week, but then he gave it up to babysit me. Finally I had to pack his gym bag and push him out the door."

"Nick used to grab a few drinks, find a loose woman, dump some of his stress on her, pound out the rest of his tension in bed, and then sleep it off."

"Oh." It wasn't the answer she was expecting. "You probably aren't comfortable pushing him out the door to do that."

"Hardly! But you're right, after hooking up with me, no matter how rough his day was, he'd walk through the door playing the part of Mr. No Worries, and then, after pretending nothing was bothering him all night, he'd sweetly make love to me before nodding off with me trapped in his arms. Not quite as stress reducing, huh?"

"No." Wendy sighed at the thought of these two tension-prone people cohabitating. "You need to make him understand that he can come home and dump his stress on you, without appearing weak in your eyes. Then, if you're up for it, volunteer to play the part of the loose woman. I've always found it highly enjoyable."

"Okay, I'm on the right track then." Chuckling into the phone she admitted, "We just started working on him knowing it's okay to be vulnerable in front of his future wife, and teaching me how to play the part of a loose woman."

Standing up Wendy instructed, "Well pack a bag and get over here to work on it some more. I have the guest room made up for the two of you. No need to be shy either, we won't hear you at the other end of the house."

"You're too much, Wendy!" She giggled. "I really couldn't have asked for a better sister-in-law. That reminds me! Sara and I are really looking forward to those cooking lessons of yours."

"I'm looking forward to being entertained while watching the two of you try to cook," She teased. "And even though you're about to get_ five_ _more _sister-in-laws, Carrie, I have no doubt I'll always be your favorite."

"Me either."

Ten minutes later when Wendy returned to the kitchen, she saw Nick and McKenna quietly coloring while her son was frantically trying to free his rope-bound wrists. "What's going on?"

"Mom!" Sean panicked while his sister answered the question.

"Uncle Nicky tied up Sean to teach him a lesson."

Shaking his head, Nick walked over and undid the knot. "Sorry, Pal, I know you wanted this between you and me, but we're going to have to fess up, or your mom will have me spending the night in County lockup and I'll be calling my mommy to bail me out…and the day I need my mommy to save me, I'm never hearing the end of it."

**Greg's Tahoe**

**7:18 p.m. **

Realizing he was rapidly cycling through a dozen emotions, Greg pulled his Tahoe into a mini-mall parking lot. Pulling his cellphone from his belt, he called his mom for a chat, because over the years she was the one person who could bail him out of these funks and make him feel balanced again.

Bev's cheery voice sang through the phone. "Hi, Sweetheart."

"Hi, Mom." He settled back in his seat, already feeling a little better from the sound of her voice.

"What's going on, Greg?" When her son didn't pipe up, Bev did. "I'll go first because I have a confession. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds since you haven't asked her to marry you **yet**but Tawny and I exchanged _I love yous_ today, and when we did, I told her she should start calling me Mom. I mean it seems a bit awkward having her call me Mrs. Sanders, when she's part of the family…albeit unofficially. I know it sounds cliché, but I feel so lucky to be gaining a daughter instead of losing a son. Exactly when are you going to propose, Greg?"

Since he had called to decompress he was a little bummed his mom was adding to his stress. "Uh… when I know the answer, I promise you'll be the second woman to know."

"As it should be." Bev chuckled sweetly. "Some days I'm so excited I can hardly stand the wait, and other days I'm stunned that thirty years have passed and my baby will be getting married soon and having a baby of his own."

"About that…" He gripped the phone tighter and cut to the chase. "What if I can't…what if I try and…what if I'm not any good at being a dad, especially if I don't feel anything for the baby because it's not mine."

"Is something wrong?" Her voice suddenly turned serious, "Are you having second thoughts about Tawny and the baby?"

Closing his eyes he confessed, "I'm getting scared."

"Greg, you were extraordinarily lucid when I was out there. You said you never would have told Tawny you loved her, if you couldn't deal with the baby not being yours. And Honey, I wasn't going to tell you this but…I accidentally saw what you wrote in her Algebra notebook. Those were some _very heavy promises_ you made an extremely fragile girl, and you didn't make them contingent upon the paternity of the baby. She absolutely believes she has a future with you no matter what. You'll shatter her, if you change your mind."

Opening his eyes he stared at the people going to and fro at the mini mall. "I know that, and I'd never do it intentionally. I'm not going anywhere. I'm just afraid I'll feel that way and she'll see it. She saw it in my eyes this morning when I got tense about it."

"It's okay to be scared, Sweetie. She knows you're scared. She's scared too."

He pleaded in a desperate whisper, "Mom…it's been a really long time since I've said this to you but…I need you to pull me out of the hole." It was their secret code.

"Okay, Honey. Okay." After a brief pause Bev attempted to fulfill her son's plea. "Tawny told me recently that she fell in love with you the first time you were together. That you didn't just walk into her apartment that day, you walked into her life, and by the time you left that night, you were already in her heart. She loves you deeply, Greg, with the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. Do you have any idea how hard that kind of love is to find? Some people never find it. You've found it…now draw on it to conquer whatever fears you have."

Shaking his head he replied, "I've been doing that but suddenly it's not working, and I'm edgy and it keeps getting worse."

"Then you know there's something else on your mind. Talk to me and we'll figure it out."

Climbing into the back seat of the Tahoe, he took refuge from the outside world by reclining and staring at the truck's ceiling. "There's so much pressure. I've been avoiding the reality of a baby and it's catching up to me. I'm so unprepared, Mom. Funny, huh…since my being unprepared created the baby in the first place…at least I hope it did, and that's its mine…" He groaned, "See! One minute I'm worried I'm _having_ a baby, and the next I'm worried I'm _not_ having one. It's so screwed up…**I'm** so screwed up about this."

"Keep dumping, Sweetie."

While massaging his forehead he explained, "I was having lunch with Nick, and when I was listening to him go on and on about the responsibilities of a husband and father, I started to panic. I'm accustomed to being good at everything I do, mainly because I've only done things I'm good at. Now I'm in a job that's a challenge, I'm in a relationship that's a challenge, and in the future I know I'll be challenged trying to be a dependable and responsible husband and father. I'm so far out of my comfort zone…it has me completely freaked."

Bev's voice remained sunny. "You're so intelligent, Greg, you can figure it all out in time. You haven't had enough time…"

"I'm not gifted at any of this stuff, Mom. Chemistry makes sense…this stuff is terrifying. A couple of hours ago while at a house investigating a case, I held a baby for the first time. There was nothing there. Nothing, Mom…except me feeling helpless and uncomfortable." He pulled in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out along with his darkest fear. "After that, I was trying really hard not to freak out about it, so I focused on processing paint samples for the case. While I was doing that, something scary went through my head for a split second…I wanted to disappear. It made me nervous."

"That was seventeen years ago and I'm not worried. You're not really worried, are you?"

His voice cracked in a perfect compliment to his confidence. "No, but it made me uncomfortable that I could even think it for a second. I have an idea why it was on my mind though."

"Tell me, Honey."

His thoughts turned back to earlier in the day. "I think the memory was triggered when I watched a man arrive at the morgue to ID his murdered daughter this afternoon. When I saw how devastated he was, I envisioned how hard it would have been for you, if I hadn't pulled through. It was horrible watching that man, and then I heard him cry…I've never heard a cry like that in my life."

"Losing a child is devastating under any circumstance…under a senseless, horrific one it's worse. That poor man." Clearing her throat she asked, "Greg…have you told Tawny our secret?"

"No, because if she slipped in front of Dad and he figured it out, he'd never forgive you for the cover up. And I don't want her looking at me differently. That's why we didn't tell Dad, right?"

"Right."

"Right." Staring at the ceiling his voice grew distant. "So…you and I, and the cooperative ER folks at Mercy Hospital, will be the only ones who ever know it wasn't just alcohol poisoning from drinking too much my first time…and we'll be the only ones who ever know the alcohol was only to wash down the pills I swallowed."

"Greg…don't..."

"I'm okay," He confirmed in the strongest voice he used since initiating the call. "Really…it's helping to talk about it. We haven't spoken about it in years. Yeah…this is exactly what was stuck in my head making me crazy. When I saw that father…I couldn't believe I almost did that to you, Mom. You must have looked like that when you found me at home and thought I was dead."

"Why do you think I was so over the top after the lab explosion?" Sniffling into the phone she admitted, "You were so doped up when I saw you at the hospital, you looked lifeless and pale…it was terrifying. Everyone pegged me for being a hysterical mother; they didn't know what I was really thinking about finding my thirteen year old son in his room at death's door. I've almost lost you three times, Gregory…once when I was pregnant, once when you tried to disappear, and once when Catherine was irresponsible in the lab. I can't take another scare, Son."

Sitting up he vowed, "Mom, no matter how hard life gets, or how bad I screw up, you know I'd never do that again…not to you, or Tawny, or the baby…or myself. A fleeting thought isn't a sign of impending action. I just needed to let this out and confront it, so I could dismiss it. It's healthy."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely!" He filled his lungs with new air. "I just needed to work it out in my head. I needed to say it to someone safe."

"I believe you, Honey. You do sound better all of a sudden."

"Because I just remembered how lucky I am to be alive and have a shot at this stuff." With conviction he stated, "Mom, I know can do it…I know I can." He nodded as he convinced himself. "Even if the baby isn't mine. I don't have to be the best at being a dad, I just have to try, right? And Tawny will love me even if I'm bad at it initially, because like you said…she loves me deeply…she loves me like you love me, right?"

"That's right…and you know if you and Tawny need help after the baby is born, I'll take a leave of absence from work, I'll be there in a heartbeat, and I'll stay as long as you need me. I'll get your father to buy a second home in Vegas if I have to. You're not alone in this, Greg. I promised Tawny the same. And Honey, once you can connect in a tangible way with the baby, the love will flow. You'll see. Now tell me…are you out of the hole, Greg?"

"Yes." He breathed easier. "I love you, Mom. Thanks."

"Greg…this is hard for me to say but…I won't be around forever." In a loving tone she directed, "You need to teach Tawny how to pull you out of the hole. She's got the right stuff."

**The Fitness Den  
****7:27 p.m. **

As the music slowed from a pulsating funk to a slow grind, Divine announced, "We're at the half way mark, so that means it's time to work on our routine! Now Sara we've been working on this routine for while, so don't feel bad if it seems like everyone knows it better than you. Your best friend Miss Kansas will help you out if you get lost along the way. Nobody does it better than her."

Heather glanced in Sara's direction, finding it quite surprising that she and Tawny were close friends. Perhaps that's how Tawny met Greg, she mused. She was also amazed at how good Sara was at exotic dancing. Then again, she knew first hand that sometimes the cold, silent types were the hottest and loudest behind closed doors. Watching Sara, she couldn't help but notice her long slender legs and imagined Gil liked having those clamped around him, because he certainly like the leg hold she had on him the night they took a tumble.

"Okay ladies, on your backs to start."

"I think you'll really like this part, Sara," Tawny advised as the wanton music of Prince's Gett Off filled the room. "And it's totally something you can show off at home. I did this routine for Greg when we were first dating."

"Arch up slow and back down twice."

In a sarcastic tone, Sara teased, "Let me guess…he loved it!" She rolled her eyes. "Really Tawny, couldn't you wear a flannel nightgown and turn on Chuckles?"

"Pop to a Spread Eagle!"

With her legs spread wider than nature intended, she casually replied, "Actually no, that's one of his big turn offs. Apparently it reminds him of his grandmother and squicks him out good."

"Okay…Eww." Sara cringed.

"Now bring those legs together nice and slow."

Tawny laughed. "That's the same face Carrie made when we were talking about her sucking Nick's toes."

"Use your hands, girls! No one should be afraid of their own body!"

"Remember…you want your audience to want to be your hands."

As Sara followed the instructor's call, she urged Tawny, "Please, no more kinky imagery involving my pseudo-brothers. Especially not when I'm being ordered to touch myself! It's very conflicting!"

"Flip to your stomach and crawl! And let's see those burning looks of desire!"

Feeling devilish Tawny deadpanned as she seductively snaked across the wood floor, "So talking about Nick and Greg wearing granny flannel nightgowns in bed, while sucking each other's toes, as Gil watches trying to decide which guy he wants to suck his toes first, is definitely out, huh?"

"OH! My mind's eye just went blind." Sara collapsed in a fit of horrified laughter. "That should be the dictionary definition of squick!"

"Now pretend you're slithering up your partner's body."

Heather's head snapped in Sara and Tawny's direction when she heard their hysterical laughter. It was strange to see Sara being so jovial when she always appeared so serious. Since Gil was such a staid individual she had assumed Sara was as well. Perhaps I should appeal to her humorous side, she pondered?

Divine teased into the microphone. "Looks like we got some girl on girl action going on over here between Miss Kansas and her friend. Care to let us in on the joke?"

"Just giggling about doing this later for our guys!" Tawny assured her.

Just then, Tawny heard her cellphone ring from its place on the floor in front of the mirrored wall. Anxious to see if it was Greg, she jumped up to grab it.

Divine chided her star student. "Girlfriend, unless it's a matter of life or death, you better tell Greggy to stop interrupting my class."

"Sorry!" When she saw it was Greg calling she pointed to the door and told Sara, "I have to take this in the locker room. Be right back."

Sara watched her friend flee, and then shifted her eyes to Heather, who she was shocked to find staring back at her smiling.

Moving her gaze to the instructor, Sara's tension simmered along with her active imagination…Heather was staring at me smiling. That probably means she has her plan of attack all figured out and she's daydreaming how wonderful it's going to be to cut me down again. I wonder if she's planning on carrying it out in front of Tawny for extra humiliation. That's what Suzie would do.

Meanwhile in the locker room, Tawny answered her phone. "Hey, Sweetie! You do remember I'm in the middle of dance class, right?"

"I do and I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait to talk to you. I needed to tell you I love you, and I wanted to ask you to do something with me. So…I love you!"

"I love you too, Greg." With a smile fanning over her lips she leaned against a row of lockers. "What do you want me to do with you?"

"Take a trip down memory lane. I want to remember our first date. I want to remember it with you."

"Right now?" Confused, she reminded him, "But you said you never wanted to think about it because you were too…"

"I do now. Please."

"Your mother told you what I said about our first date, didn't she?" Taking a seat on a bench she sighed.

"She told me. That's why I want to remember it with you, because sometimes when I'm stressed about something I push it down deep to forget it, or I remember only a sanitized version of the truth."

"Okay…why don't you tell me what you remember and I'll add to it as we go along."

"Perfect."

_Sitting casually on the black leather couch next to Tawny, the most gorgeous woman with whom he had ever shared air, Greg was having a wonderful time. She looked incredibly sexy in the tiny pair of black shorts and tight white t- shirt she was wearing and with each passing second, he was increasingly grateful for her proximity. _

_For the last hour they had chatted non-stop while listening to the burned CDs he brought over along with Krispy Kremes and lattes. The situation was very familiar to Greg… reclined on a couch, shoes kicked off, laughing and having a good time with a beautiful girl. Unfortunately, in the course of his lifetime, more often than not, that's as far as it went. He was the sweet, funny guy girls loved to hang out with, but didn't want to date or bed. At the age of thirty he was an expert at cheering up women. An expert, because he had so much practice…first with Becca and then with various girls in college. _

_Every time Becca broke up with a hunk it was Greg's shoulder she sobbed on, and every time he restored her, it was he who watched from the sidelines as she dated her next stud. By the time he went to college it seemed girls could sense he had this special healing power and sought him out to platonically mend their broken hearts before moving on to their next heartbreaker. _

_So, when Tawny giggled and brushed her red-tipped fingernails across his lips, Greg didn't automatically assume she was coming onto him, and disappointedly remarked, "It figures, I'm sitting here trying to impress you and I have donut sugar or latte foam all over my mouth, or both probably. Very typical for me." Tossing up his hands he matter-of-factly suggested, "How about we cut to the chase. Go ahead and tell me it's great talking to me because I'm such a sweet, sensitive guy, and you hope we'll be friends for the rest of our lives because I'm such a good listener." _

"_Not what I was thinking at all." Sliding closer she enticingly curved her frosty pink lips. "I'm dying over here waiting for you to kiss me, so I was touching your lips to give you a hint." By now, most men would have pounced, and she wondered why he was so hesitant and what he thought was wrong with her. He was so different than the other men who had come and gone and since she was desperate to have him stay, she decided to take the direct approach. "Do you want to kiss me, Greg?" She lowered her voice to a sultry depth. "Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?" _

_Still in shock that she wanted him so blatantly, he sat still, kissing her only with his eyes. _

"_Wow…I love the way you're looking at me." Entranced by the emotion in his chocolate brown eyes, she inched closer until her bottom lip grazed over his. "That's how I know I'll love the way you'll kiss me. Kiss me…" _

_The sweetness was instantly overwhelming as he granted her wish and Greg knew it had little to do with the sugary treats they had just enjoyed. Everything about the kiss was electrifying...the feel of her warm moist lips against his, the thrill of their tongues thrusting and meeting for the first time, the synchronicity of their moves, and the undeniable desire igniting between them as the kiss deepened. _

_Next their hands engaged. Hers gliding firmly around his body and coursing over his back. His wrapping around her waist, pulling her close, so he could savor the feel of her ample chest pressed to his body. For Greg it was a fantasy coming true._

_When they finally took a breather from devouring each other with urgent kisses, Tawny panted in his ear, "I've never been so hot so fast. Did you put something in my latte?" She had been with great variety of men over the years, and Greg wasn't the hunkiest, smoothest or most skilled by a mile and yet…she never felt such a strong attraction so rapidly. It baffled her. _

_Stunned by her statement, not so much for its accusatory quality, but for the unabashed admission of desire, Greg gaped at her. "Absolutely not. I'd never do something like that," He assured her while still reeling from the knowledge she was incredibly aroused by him. "I can understand why you'd think it though, because I feel the same way. I…" His mind gave up trying to summarize his lusty feelings and instead he opted to express them with action. Driving his hands under her soft cotton shirt he was thrilled to find she had nothing else on underneath. In an instant, the garment was on the way to the floor and he was visually appreciating her assets through wide open and wild eyes. _

"_I can tell you like what you see, Greg." With a siren's smile she lowered herself back against the leather draping one arm over her head. "So how about losing your shirt and joining me." _

_By the time his black pullover hit the coffee table, Greg's body was covering hers. Gasping from the feel of her buxom breasts brushing against his bare chest, he sang her praises. "You're magnificent," He blurted as his mouth left hers to explore the most tantalizing flesh he'd ever been allowed to sample. "Fantastic." Like a kid set loose in a candy store, he savored the sinful flavor of her excess with zeal._

_Tawny squirmed with delight as Greg devoted his attention to the exposed parts of her body. "Mmm…I love what you're doing to me," She enthused while running her red nails over his back and through his wild hair. "I know we just met, but…are you feeling it too? Our connection?" She hoped he felt it too. _

"_It's undeniable," When he returned to smother her lips with a kiss, Greg felt Tawny hastily working open his jeans. That's when he remembered he arrived only bearing donuts, lattes and music. "Damn…I didn't bring anything." He cursed himself for being so lax. _

_As she pushed his jeans and boxers down to his thighs and then used her foot to quickly shove them off completely, she replied in surprise, "You didn't!" _

_The swift trick floored him. "Whoa! How did you do that so fast?" _

"_Oh no! I just remembered, I don't have anything here." Sitting up, she couldn't contain her tremendous disappointment. "I really wanted to be with you, Greg. But sorry, I never fly without a net, and even if I did, I'm not on the pill. It would be too risky." _

_Greg recognized the only thing separating their bodies were Tawny's scant black shorts and the knowledge he was playing with fire if he took this any further. "Right. My fault. I'm an idiot." _

"_No…" His honesty incredibly refreshing, she smiled sweetly. "You just didn't show up here assuming this would happen. You have no idea how much that means to me." Most men would have several and plan to use them before running out the door. _

_Greg didn't have the heart to disillusion her by correcting her misperception._

_As the next segment of songs on the CD began, favorites of Greg's by The Crystal Method, his fevered body urged him to push on with the pleasure waiting to be had. Returning Tawny's smile, he suggested in a puckish tone, "We could still fool around a little…if you're up for it?" _

"_I know you're up for it." A generous trust fund wasn't the only thing this adorable guy was endowed with, she thought as she boldly eyed him. "You're in luck because you've got me so hot and bothered I'm up for it too." _

"_Excellent." When he saw her lift her hips, he yanked off her shorts and then reclaimed her mouth._

_Ready for Action was the song playing as they joyously acquainted themselves with each other's bodies for the first time. Minute after minute their attraction grew. "I know this will sound like a line, but…I've never wanted anyone more," Tawny murmured between uneven breaths against his cheek. _

"_Me either." Conscious they were hazardously close to merging, Greg searched for the willpower to stop. But every bump of their frenzied bodies sent a more powerful jolt through him and he knew with each passing second his resistance was weakening. "Tawny…I…" By the time the song was over, his resolve was nearly depleted. "I really…" _

"_Me too." She couldn't believe how focused he was on gratifying her body. Grabbing the stereo remote she upped the volume._

_During the introductory notes of Eight Miles Back, Greg laced the fingers of his left hand through Tawny's golden mane, and when the first words of the tune filled the room, he was kissing her harder and deeper than before while caressing her thoroughly._

_As time passed, it became quite clear that hands weren't providing adequate satisfaction for either of them. "This is…torture." Greg declared. _

"_How about we try something a little more stimulating?" Accenting her words with a wink she informed him, "I'll even take care of you first." With that she playfully pushing him against the leather._

"_Uh…" As he watched her descend, Greg was certain his alarm clock would be ringing any second to wake him from this phenomenal dream._

_And while the alternative activity was intensely gratifying for Greg, it wasn't quite enough to satiate his one-track mind. Tawny was **the** hottest girl he'd ever touched, and the thought of leaving without having her was unbearable…because what were the odds she'd want him twice?_

_No, he needed more. _

_Without question, he wanted it all. _

"_Tawny…" He gasped while coiling her hair in his fingers. "Please stop." _

"_You want me to stop?" She remarked quizzically, since it was the first time she had ever heard a man make the request. _

"_Would it be too risky?" _

_Now it made sense. "Oh…" While moving up his body and precariously straddling his hips she responded, "I know for certain I'm clean." With any other man she wouldn't have entertained the possibility, but Greg was so drastically different, it felt safe. _

"_I know I am too. His eyes consumed every delicious curve of her body while he waited for her to confirm the other important risk factor. "But what about timing?" When she didn't reply, he decided to prompt a response, but before he could, she unexpectedly joined their fevered bodies. "Is it a bad time of…OH!" He exclaimed out of shock and pleasure._

"_I couldn't resist your charm, because you have so much of it," She teasingly announced while savoring the mixture of emotions on his face and the connection she had just made. "I was curious…I wanted to know what we would feel like together." _

_The pleasure more intense than he ever imagined, his mind went blank as she deftly took charge. "I'm so happy you have a curious mind." Gliding his hands up her thighs and over her hips he enjoyed the spectacular view and the excitement surging within him. It was the first time he'd ever gone without a condom and the exquisite sensation made the unparalleled experience even more irresistible. "Stay curious…don't stop."_

_Over the Line poured out of the speakers as he was swept further away from rationale thought. "Tawny…" Missing her mouth on his, he reached out and pulled her down on top of him. "You're amazing." After a gasp of air, he stole a hungry kiss. _

_While expertly maneuvering her body she pleaded in a whisper, "Do you want to take a turn on top, Baby?" She always asked even though they rarely said yes._

"_Yes!" _

"_Really?" Surprise dominated her voice not only from the affirmative reply, but the fact that he genuinely appeared to desire it._

"_Absolutely." ANY position was the right one in his mind, so he quickly complied, rolling their twined bodies until she was on her back. And although he knew he should stop this dangerous game, once he saw the ecstasy brewing in her eyes he forged on with a renewed intensity. "Is this what you wanted?" To overcompensate for his perceived inadequacies, he focused on making it as wonderful for her as possible. "Is this good for you?" _

"_Yes..." She sighed as she simmered. "Just promise me you'll pull away before it's too late. I'll be there to catch you." _

"_I promise." He would have promised anything to prolong the experience. Never in his life had a girl been so responsive to his moves and it drove his yearning to an extreme. If he didn't know about the thrill awaiting him in the final moment of bliss, he was certain he'd never want this part to end._

_As the song ended Tawny dug her nails into shoulders, pleading, "How long can you wait?" By now most guys would have taken what they needed and she couldn't imagine he'd be interested in giving much more. "I just need a little more time." _

_He would have done whatever she asked. The fact that she all she wanted him to continue doing what he was thoroughly enjoying, was icing on the cake. "I can wait as long as you need me to wait." Then he cracked a huge grin. "But realistically…twenty minutes tops, because you have me so far gone already." _

_Her face exploded into a smile at the sight of his. "That should be plenty of time." _

_Curving his hand around her thigh he encouraged, "Tell me what you like, so I can help you out." In his limited experience with women, this particular position always seemed to please them the most. To confirm, while guiding her leg around him and angling his body differently, he asked in low whisper, "Does this work for you?"_

_Her eyes lit with contentment. "Yes…definitely yes!" It wouldn't have mattered what he did, the fact that he cared enough to ask drove her wild. _

_With each jagged breath she drew, his confidence skyrocketed. _

_She radiated with joy as he focused on her needs. "You're the best, Greg," He was the antithesis of Clive Braxley, the jerk who currently held the title of The Most Self-Centered Asshole I've Dated This Year. "You're so good, Greg! SO GOOD!" _

_The frenetic pace of Blowout filled the room and the combination of generous compliments and contented sounds from the outrageously sexy lady below him, made it impossible for Greg to think clearly. This woman…this scenario…it was the ultimate fantasy come true. It was as if he could do no wrong in her eyes. _

_As the pulsating music blared, the temperature between them continued to rise to a precarious sizzle. _

"_I love the way you're looking at me, Greg." Gripping his body, she heatedly exclaimed, "Keep looking into my eyes while you…YES…just like that. It's perfect. You're perfect!" _

_Tawny's intense reactions thrust him further out of control. "This is incredible." After pushing her hair off her face he kept his hand on her forehead and penetrated her eyes a little deeper. "You're incredible." _

_With their eyes locked as tightly as their bodies, the only encouragement he needed to hold out and give her more, was the impending crescendo guaranteed by her expression. And while some remote section of his brain screamed 'stop before it's too late', he firmly latched onto her and kept going. He kept going while watching her surrender to the pleasure he had fired within her, and when she was finished, he used the elation on her face to propel himself toward his own euphoria. "Tawny…" In the heat of the moment he clutched her tighter still. "I…"_

"_Greg…" Pushing against his shoulders with her open palms she implored, "Don't forget to…"_

_His mind went blank as he submitted to his desire and his satisfaction was expressed in a flurry of barely coherent exclamations until the very last wave of gratification washed over him. _

_A minute later a complete thought finally formed in his mind. "That was unbelievable," He breathed out as he tenderly brushed Tawny's damp hair from her face. "And so are you." Still fused with her he rode out each extraneous shudder and delicious spark, then finally his brain fully unscrambled. "Oh no…" He winced. "I forgot…"_

"_Yeah…" _

"_It felt so good…you felt so good…I…" _

"_It's okay," She replied in a nervous whisper. _

"_I'm really sorry. I never had to remember that before and…" _

"_It's okay," She repeated with a twinge of panic in her voice._

_Softly he brushed a kiss over her lips. "It was…" _

"…_worth the risk I hope." She flashed a tense smile. "At least you have that trust fund so you can support a baby if something should happen, right? I mean I'm sure it won't, but just in case. Sorry, I'm trying not to panic here." _

_That's when reality started to sink in and finally Greg did what he was supposed to do a few minutes earlier…pull away fast._

"_Oh!" Tawny's screeched as the remnants of him reminded her of the risk they had just taken. "I'm not used to having…I'm going to powder my nose. I'll be back in five." _

_As Tawny dashed off to the bathroom, Greg crashed against the back of the couch thinking...I can't believe I did that...what the hell was I thinking! And she's completely freaked out that she could get pregnant! Oh my god what if she does get pregnant! Okay stop…don't go there. Just block it. It's not gonna happen!_

_Jumping off the couch in a panic he grabbed his boxers and yanked them on. _

_Behind her locked bathroom door Tawny burst into a full panic. I can't believe I did that. But he was so cute and nice and then he was so into me and it felt so good. Oh my god what if I get pregnant! He was so freaked out when I blurted that. Oh my god! What if I do and he demands I have an abortion. I couldn't do that. Okay stop…don't go there. Just block it. It's not gonna happen!_

_A few minutes later, when Tawny emerged from the bathroom wearing a short pink satin robe she saw Greg dressed and stepping into his shoes. "You're leaving without even saying goodbye? I don't believe you! After what we just…after you just…you're a real bastard, you know that. At least the other guys who use me, kiss me on the cheek at the door before never showing their faces again. I really thought we…ugh! I get asked out seven nights a week. I don't need you! Get the hell out of here! GET OUT!"_

"_No! Wait! You don't understand…I really don't want to go. I didn't plan on rushing out after." He hurried over to her. "I wasn't planning on leaving at all…I mean was looking forward to lazing around with you and watching a movie with you, like you said when I first got here. Hell, I wanted to see you again tomorrow and the day after…" Averting his eyes he confessed, "But after what I did…and what you said about a baby and my trust fund…I have something I need to tell you and well…I know you're going to toss me out me when I do, so I got dressed." Returning his gaze he shamefully admitted, "I lied to you." _

"_About being clean!" Her arms instinctively wrapped around her body. _

"_NO!" His hands rushed up. "Not that, I swear. I lied about the trust fund…I don't have one. I said that I did because…" Sighing from embarrassment he confessed, "Honestly…you're the most gorgeous woman I ever met and I would have said anything to be with you. I knew you were into guys with cash because Grissom told me about your reaction to his Blvgari jewelry bag. And last night you propositioned him because he's loaded. I lied hoping it would get me a date with you. It's totally out of character for me." He shrugged. "Then again, so is getting a date with and having incredible sex with a woman who blows me away…and so is not wearing a condom when I'm actually lucky enough to have sex." He lowered his gaze to the floor. "I'm really sorry I lied. So now do you understand why I got dressed? Okay…I'm taking you up on you request and getting the hell out of here now." _

_Staring at the remorseful man in front of her Tawny softly replied, "Wait! I'm not kicking you out." _

_Glancing back he said, "You want to kill me first instead?" He opened his arms. " Go ahead…I deserve it." _

"_No." Reaching out she took his hand. "I have a confession too. I never would have invited you over if you didn't mention the trust fund. Totally shallow…I know. So how can I be pissed at you for lying? We're both guilty of being fakes."_

_Vulnerable from the candor he shyly asked, "But now that you know the truth are you sorry you did…that we…was that the only reason you were enjoying it…or pretending to enjoy it?" _

"_Not at all."_

"_Really?" He searched her eyes for confirmation._

_Excitedly she told him, "Hey! You know what this reminds me of… that scene in Moulin Rouge when Satine thinks Christian is a Duke and she's all excited he came to see her. But later, after they kiss and form a connection, she finds out he's not a Duke, but only…" _

"_A lowly CSI One without a trust fund, who plays the sitar." He laughed at his own words. "I actually can play the sitar by the way. My mom is a music teacher."_

"_You've seen the movie!"_

"_Own it." He sheepishly admitted, "I wasn't lying about liking romantic movies. Plus that one is full of music and I'm really into music."_

_Pleased with his response she continued, "So just like in the movie, even though Satine finds out that Christian isn't rich, it doesn't matter because it's too late… she's already smitten." Her eyes sparkled as she confessed, "I'm smitten with you…I want you to stay." _

"_Really?" Surprised to hear it he curiously asked, " Why are you smitten with me?" _

"_Can't you just take my word for it?" She giggled from the clueless look on his face. "You're very talkative and inquisitive for a guy! Geez!"_

"_And you're not upset that I forgot to…" He pointed to the leather couch. "I took care of that by the way." _

_Covering her mouth she giggled. "You took time to clean up my couch when you were panicking that I was going to kill you?" _

"_Well…" Finally his smile returned. "I'm with the crime lab, remember? Leaving my DNA behind wasn't an option, because if you did kill me for lying, which I totally deserved, then it would be easy for them to catch you. I didn't want you caught. I was also going to advise you to shower thoroughly, dispose of my coffee cup, vacuum the entire place…remembering to toss the bag afterwards, and then depending on how you planned on killing me I'd give you additional tips." _

"_You're very strange." _

_He nodded. "I get that a lot." _

"_Come here," She tugged him over and slipped her arms around his waist. "Will you stay and watch a movie with me?" _

"_Will I stay!" Wrapping his arms around her he relaxed. "Are you kidding?Yeah! Be careful what you wish for though…you may never get rid of me."_

_Gleeful, she slipped out of his arms and flitted across the room. "Can we snuggle in bed while we're watching the movie?" _

"_If you twist my arm!" He disrobed immediately. _

"_The boxers stay on!" She warned. "Because you're armed, dangerous and not in control of your piece." _

"_Deal." He laughed and cringed simultaneously while following her to the bed in the far corner of the studio apartment. "So what are we watching?" _

"_What do you think?" She held up her copy of Moulin Rouge. _

"_Excellent." While sliding under the covers he asked a favor, "If you bump into any of the guys I work with, don't tell them I like romantic movies. And while we're on the subject, don't tell them about me not having control over my piece…could you um…not tell anyone that actually." Fluffing the pillows he anxiously awaited her arrival. _

"_Don't worry…" After inserting the DVD she strolled over to the bed grinning. "Have you forgotten what I do for a living? During lap dances vulnerable men tell me their secrets all the time. I'm a pro…even your deepest secrets are safe with me, Greg Sanders." Slipping under the covers she smiled. "Care to spoon me?" _

_Sporting a goofy grin he replied, "I'd be honored." Holding open his arms he invited her and when she burrowed against him he enveloped her. "I'm really glad you didn't kick me out," He informed her while enjoying the feel of her warm body in his arms. _

"_I'm really glad you stayed." She nestled a little deeper into the embrace. "Will you come back again tomorrow?" _

"_You want me to come back tomorrow?" He responded in shock. "You mean this isn't a mercy snuggle because I'm a hapless idiot?" _

"_HA! A mercy snuggle!" She turned so she could see his eyes. "No, it's a real snuggle and I really want to see you again, **but **don't say you will unless you're one hundred percent sure. I've been disappointed too many times by too many guys. Prove to me you're as different as I think you are." _

_Staring at her beautiful smile he finally answered her question. "Even though I already lied about something major, and even though I broke the first promise I ever made to you, please believe me when I say…I'm one hundred percent certain I'd like to come back tomorrow." _

"_I believe you." _

_They traded radiant smiles and then Greg offered, "Same time, same place, same breakfast order?"_

"_Same snuggling." She returned to her spoon position and released a blissful sigh. "Just remember to pick up some protection in case I find you irresistible again tomorrow. I don't want to tempt fate twice. Everybody gets away with it once in their life, but twice is asking for trouble."_

"_On the way home from here, I swear." He squeezed her tighter, grateful again for her clemency._

"_Do you have to leave right after the movie?" She asked with a hint of desperation in her voice._

"_I don't have to be anywhere until ten p.m.," He softly replied. "As long as I can get some sleep, I can stay all day if you'd like." _

"_I'd like that." _

"_Me too." As the movie began, Greg whispered a play on words from the film, in Tawny's ear, "So, Tawny, who gets asked out seven nights a week…do you think I'm going to be bad for business?" _

"_Wow. Is that your way of saying you want exclusive visiting privileges? A little bold for a first date, don't you think?" Turning to catch his eye, she whispered back through a smile. "Yes…I think you're going to be very bad for business." _

"_Do you want to kiss me, Tawny?" He couldn't tear his eyes away from hers while he parroted her question from earlier. "Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?"_

"_Yes." She melted from his steady gaze and when he brushed his lips over hers, the tenderness of his kiss nursed her aching heart. _

After growing concerned over Tawny's prolonged absence, Sara left the dance class and went looking for her in the locker room. "Tawny, is everything okay?" She called out into the seemingly empty room. Upon reaching her locker, Sara saw a note.

Sara,  
So VERY sorry!  
Had to rush home for Chuckles.  
See you tomorrow at the townhouse!  
Tawny

"I hope everything is okay," She remarked while staring at the note. Then she surmised if something were seriously wrong, Tawny wouldn't have taken the time to write a note, and she wouldn't be keeping their plans for tomorrow. With only ten minutes left to go in the class, Sara decided not to bother returning, especially since Lady Heather kept glaring at her.

Opening her locker she gathered her things quickly.

"You forgot something…" Heather's voice echoed into the empty room.

Sara froze as her foe's shrill tone sent a shiver up her spine.

"I believe this is your t-shirt." Heather walked over and dangled it from her fingers. "Or is it Gil's?"

Sticking to her promise not to let the woman get the upper hand three out of three times, Sara snatched the t-shirt and snapped, "Thank you, and unless you have something nice to say…move along."

"Nice wedding band." She smiled. "That's new since I last saw you. Last time it was a diamond ring." Before she could offer proper congratulations, she felt the heat of Sara's breath in her face.

"That's right!" Sara waved her left hand. "We made it official and to save you some time I'll answer your question from last time. Yes, he's wearing one too. _Proudly and publicly_...a matching one as a matter of fact, to represent the _equality _in our marriage. And you'll love this…we got married at the Little Chapel of the Flower's _Victorian Chapel_. Could that place _be _any more representative of the sweet normalcy you love to rub in my face as if it's shameful?" Oozing self-assuredness she blasted, "You can take your best shot at shaking my faith in Gil and our vows, but it's not going to rock me an inch, because my commitment…not slavery…not ownership…but a promise to love, respect, and trust one another is SO solid, there isn't a thing you can say to make me have doubts about my husband or my marriage. Although you'd love to make me believe it, my husband doesn't lie to me." Folding her arms across her chest, she snipped, "So go ahead…take your best shot."

After a calming breath, Heather replied, "I'm so content with what you've stated…I don't feel compelled to add a thing." With that she turned on a dime and headed for the dance room, but before she could force herself through the door, she paused, unable to resist the temptation to prove the smug woman wrong. "Sara…maybe I do just have one thing to ask."

"What?" Her arms clamped across her chest she glared at the woman.

"I'm curious." Heather sauntered toward her nemesis. "If a man purposely withholds information from his wife when she's asked for it and purports not to know the answer, is that the same in your mind as _lying_?"

"Yes." Sara stood firm.

"Would you say it's disrespectful?"

"Yes."

"A breech in the trust of the marriage?"

"Yes."

"And you're certain your husband doesn't lie to you?"

"Never." She snapped, "Why are you asking? Do you have a point you're trying to make? Or is all of this vague questioning just supposed to rattle me in a general way?"

"Like I said… I was just curious." Heather grinned uncontrollably. "Have a nice night." At the door she turned and tossed a wink in Sara's direction. "And congratulations on your _perfect _marriage."

"Whatever." Sara grabbed her car keys and bolted out of the locker room feeling much better having played offense than defense this time.

After a quick hustle through the gym and out the door, Sara made a beeline for her car in the far corner of the parking lot. Once there, she opened the door, tossed her stuff on the passenger seat and shoved the keys in the ignition. "Damn it!" She yelled when the engine wouldn't start. At home when she was having the car trouble which almost made her miss her class, the engine was at least making a noise. Now it wasn't doing anything at all. "It's totally dead!"

Reaching over she retrieved her cellphone and punched in her husband's code.

"Grissom."

"Hey…" Catching her breath she asked, "Can you swing by The Fitness Den and pick me up. My car's dead and I _really_ want to go home and relax." She didn't bother telling him about Heather because she wasn't worth mentioning.

"It's 7:55 now, I should be there in five minutes."

**Jim Brass's Apartment **

**7:55 p.m. **

Noting the time, Jim grabbed his keys and headed out the front door so he wouldn't be late meeting Heather in front of The Fitness Den at eight. After a taxing day, he was really looking forward to a relaxing evening with his mystery lady.

* * *

Author's Note:

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 8

**Posting:** along with this chapter - no waiting!

Sorry for the delay, parts 7 and 8 had to be edited to comply with the rules of this website. I didn't know for sure if anyone was relying on reading it here, since I haven't heard from anyone via this website, but HeartGSRcommentedasking if I would post itherebecause it is easier to access than the website. So, assuming others are in the same boat, Iwill try my best to get it up here at the same time as my website. On days where editing is required there might be a delay.

Thanks,

Maggs


	8. Losing It Part 8

**Author's Note: I cut a Greg and Tawny scene from the original versionof this chapter appearing on my homepage because it contained a smattering of music lyrics and the scene wouldn't have read properly without them. I was also concerned that it might violate the rating although I don't think so...playing it safe!**

* * *

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 79: Losing It – Part 8**

**Greg's Apartment  
****7:55 p.m. **

When Tawny heard a knock, she flew out of the bedroom cinching her black silk robe and hurried to open the door. When she did, she was thrilled to see Greg grinning from ear to ear with both hands secretively behind his back.

"Hey," She greeted with the same smirk she used to wear when he would arrive for their daily date.

"Hey," Greg echoed while revealing the contents in his right hand…a bag of Krispy Kremes. "I'm embracing our history. This is a booty call, Baby…and like it always was…it's also something a little more." Bringing his left hand forward, he displayed a vase full of red roses. "I can't believe I never brought you flowers before now. Please subtract one hundred cool points for that because you've certainly deserved them many times over. Thank you for the phone call, and for bringing a smile to my face after a really rough day. I love you, Tawny."

"I love you too!" Throwing her arms around his neck she shrieked, "The flowers are beautiful! Your words were wonderful! I know the donuts will be delicious, and every lusty pregnancy hormone in my body is grateful for this booty call!" It had been six days since they made love, and after a stimulating striptease class and rehashing their passionate first time together over the phone, she was craving intense physical affection as much as the sugary treats in the bag. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome," Greg declared as he was yanked inside seconds before the door slammed behind him. "I only have an hour before I need to get back to the lab." Kicking off his shoes he chuckled, "I hope that's enough time."

Snatching the contents from his hands she placed them on the kitchen counter. "I don't know about you, but I'm so pent up I'll be done in ten minutes tops."

"I realized today that I absolutely without a doubt know the baby is mine," He declared while letting Tawny frantically undo his belt. "When I first found out you were pregnant I was worried you had done it on purpose to trap me. Hello!" He hoisted his arms up so Tawny could yank his shirt over his head. "Talk about selective memory. Could I have been more wrong? How many times did you remind me?" He shuddered with delight as Tawny's hands fastidiously worked open his button-fly jeans. "And you were more than happy to expertly take care of business for me, so it wasn't like you were leaving me high and dry hoping I'd insist on something and make it seem like my idea." Shaking his head he groaned, "What guy in his right mind turns down _that_ in favor of pregnancy-risking sex?"

"Yeah…that really shocked the hell out of me at the time," She giggled as she shucked his pants and boxers. "Wow, I've missed you, Baby."

Quickly he stepped out of the clothes bunged around his ankles. "I've missed you too."

Bending down she tugged off his socks…while trying desperately to block the homo-erotic toe-sucking imagery she had painted for Sara at dance class.

Pulling her up, he half-joked, "I think, subconsciously, I intentionally got you pregnant because deep down I knew you were the perfect woman for me. How else can I possibly explain such an intense desire to screw up that day?" After discarding her robe he placed his palm over her womb and affirmed, "That's my baby, Baby. No guy gets away with being that stupid and reckless."

"Nope!" Her estrogen-fueled libido powered her words as she cut to the booty call bottom line. "Couch, bed or floor?"

"Couch of course, we're being nostalgic! And we'll need the right music." Hurrying to the Beosound 9000 he cued up the exact same disc. "Our baby was conceived during a sugar rush while listening to The Crystal Method…starting with Eight Miles Back, which coincidentally was where I left my condoms, and conception occurred during Blowout, which by definition means the sudden malfunction of an apparatus leading to an escape of gas or liquid..." He chuckled, "…luckily I only leaked one of those substances in the heat of the moment."

Lounging on the couch she laughed. "Actually you leaked the other one when you were sleeping later that day." Suddenly concerned the truth might kill the mood, she lied. "Just kidding!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, he raced over and joined his lover on the couch, honing in on her gleaming eyes. "Hello, there." Instead of joining their bodies, he remained just out of reach to taunt her.

Grinning wildly, she shifted her hips to acknowledge the tease. "Hello, Stranger."

Lowering his lips to hers he admitted, "If I could go back and do it all over again that first time, I wouldn't change a thing." Halting an inch from her mouth he confessed, "Except the music. Sorry…can I…"

"I'm up for whatever you mix," She purred. "Just figure it out quick, because I can't believe what these pregnancy hormones are doing to me! I'm unreasonably horny."

"And I've had a _really_ tense day and desperately need to decompress. Talk about perfect conditions for red hot lovin'." At the stereo he queried, "Think you can hang in longer than ten minutes, because I'm programming this with a specific ending in mind and it will take almost twenty to get there."

With a glint in her eye she requested, "Give me the rundown, Mister DJ, so I can pace myself."

"It's all Prince…starting out light. Then we're gettin' naughty."

"Ahh…inspirational music." She threw him a look as he stood before her.

Feigning ignorance he prodded, "Sorry, I'm not tracking you. Oh! You must be referring to …Let's Pretend We're Married. I believe that could inspire me."

"Then maybe we should hear that one twice!" She giggled riotously.

Sliding his eager body over hers he informed her in a sexy whisper, "After a potent twenty minute combination of songs, we both should be good to go. Then, when the tempo changes to the slow, sexy groove of one of my favorite romantic ballads, Do Me, Baby, we can lock eyes, up the intimacy, and explode during the high note towards the end…you know the one I'm talking about. After that we'll simmer down to Purple Rain. Sound like a plan?"

"Oh, yeah." Raring to go, she purred, "Now let's get to it, because I'm really looking forward to the explosion..."

**The Fitness Den  
****8:00 p.m. **

As he had done several times in the past month, Jim Brass leaned against the large blue U.S. Postal Service mailbox just outside The Fitness Den to wait for his mystery lady's arrival. But unlike those other times, on this night he noticed his friend, Gil Grissom, driving up to the curb.

"What are you doing here?" They asked each other as Gil emerged from the driver's seat and glanced over the roof of his car.

Just then, Heather strutted out the front door of the gym in disguise and made a beeline for her man. As she hurried toward Jim, her long dark ponytail, which was funneled through the back of the _Boston Red Sox _baseball cap she was sporting, swung in the evening breeze. The cap was a gift from her baseball-loving daughter during one of her visits home from Bean Town. And, as if wearing a ball cap wasn't out of character enough, in a severe departure from her regular attire she wore an oversized grey t-shirt, white yoga pants and cheap red flip-flops.

Before Gil could get close enough to recognize her, and before she noticed anyone else in the area, Heather had her arms around Jim's neck, greeting him with a passionate kiss.

Finding it a bit awkward to smooch his lady in front of her ex-one night stand, Jim pulled away. "We have company." When he said the words he was referring to Gil but, by the time they were out in the air, another person was within sight. "Oh shit." And although he was sure the next series of events took only seconds to unfold, it seemed like a slow motion nightmare that lasted an eternity…

As she approached from the parking lot carrying the important items she needed from her broken-down car, Sara saw Jim Brass embracing a woman. With the woman's back to her, all she could make out were some basics of her appearance…baggy clothes, plain ponytail and a sports cap. She silently rejoiced…he's SO busted! Finally, I'm going to meet Jim's mystery lady!

While Jim and Gil froze like deer in the headlights of an oncoming twenty-ton truck, Heather felt the tension in her partner's body and inquired with concern in her voice, "Is something wrong, Jim?" That's when she realized someone had appeared out of nowhere. "Oh, how nice to see you again, Gil."

"That voice," Sara whispered under her breath as her eyes focused on the woman. "What…" That's when she realized who the woman was with her hands on Jim's chest. "You…"

"Hello, Sara," Heather greeted warmly. Then turning to her partner in crime she remarked, "Well Jim, I guess the cat is prematurely out of the bag. And she wasn't home to receive her delivery at seven." She had specifically requested an in-person delivery so the document wouldn't be waiting on her doorstep.

Gil stood gaping at his stunned wife.

"No, this…" Steely-eyed, Sara asked Brass, "Is **she **your mystery lady?"

"Sara…" Brass swallowed the lump in his throat. "That's why I was taking you out to lunch on Saturday…to explain. I didn't want you to find out this way."

Rocked by the revelation, Sara turned to her husband. "You look shocked _for me_, not _about them_. You couldn't have been here more than thirty seconds, and that's hardly enough time to get used to this appalling idea so…tell me…did you know about this already?"

Before he could respond, Heather lied on his behalf. "No, he didn't. Not until a moment before you." She stood back waiting to see what Mr. Grissom would do with her lie.

Gil's eyes darted to his former lover as he wondered why she felt compelled to save his ass. Then he realized if he didn't correct the lie, she would be able to hold it over him. It's all about power with her, he reminded himself, and he knew she'd cherish having it. "That's not true. I've known for weeks."

Heather couldn't hold her tongue. "Look who grew a spine. Bravo, Gil!"

Jim gave his lady a warning stare.

"I don't believe this." Dizzy from the shock, the lies, and the reality, Sara took a step back from the conspirators. "Every one of you knew the truth, looked me in the eyes, but didn't tell me." Facing Heather she snipped, "I wouldn't expect you to be honest."

"I'm sorry, Sara." Heather calmly replied, "I know how much you value honesty in your marriage so this has to be quite a blow."

Gulping for a breath, Sara recalled the confrontation she just had in the locker room with Heather...

"_If a man purposely withholds information from his wife when she's asked for it and purports not to know the answer, is that the same in your mind as lying?" _

"_Yes." Sara stood firm._

"_Would you say it's disrespectful?" _

"_Yes." _

"_A breech in the trust of the marriage?" _

"_Yes." _

"_And you're certain your husband doesn't lie to you?" _

"_Never." She snapped, "Why are you asking? Do you have a point you're trying to make? Or is all of this vague questioning just supposed to rattle me in a general way?" _

"_Like I said… I was just curious." Heather grinned uncontrollably. "Have a nice night." At the door she turned and tossed a wink in Sara's direction. "And congratulations on your perfect marriage."_

Incredulous at her own naiveté, Sara glared at Heather. "You set me up. Just now…in the locker room…when you were asking me those questions…you knew this was about to go down."

"I beg your pardon?" Her tone reeked of innocence. "That's not true. I had no way of knowing you'd be hanging out waiting for your husband."

Sara's blood pressure skyrocketed. "You calculating Bitch."

Jim stepped forward in his lady's defense. "Hey now! She doesn't deserve that, Sara. It's me you're pissed at. How about giving her a chance to explain before you…"

"A chance, Jim?" Livid, she unleashed her fury. "Oh, so NOW, after I'm blindsided and humiliated, I'm supposed remain calm and give you all a chance. Do you have ANY idea what this feels like right now? She pulsated with anger as she screamed, "You **lied** to my face **repeatedly**. You made a **game **out of this…you were laughing at me while I stood there trying to guess who your mystery lady was! Oh my god! You cracked jokes in front of me about it! You said stuff like…I can't meet her because she's tying up loose ends. I asked if the four of us could go out to dinner some time, and you said, that would make for a very interesting evening. I never forget what people say. Admit it! You were deliberately making a fool out of me!" Her heart breaking, she sadly said, "I thought you cared about me. I trusted you. When you found me in the airport…when I was in Tahoe…I really believed you were someone I could count on. But now I know I can only count on you to let me down. Just like my real father." She fought to hold back her tears, knowing how much Heather would thrive on them.

Standing there listening to disappointment saturating Sara's voice, he suddenly heard Ellie's in his head echoing the sentiments. "I'm so sorry, Sara."

"Hasn't your lady told you…" Sara's body started shaking. "Apologies are just words. Action is what counts. And your actions have spoken louder than words ever could. How long has this…" She saw the answer in Jim's eyes. "Oh my god…since we worked the case. After you saw her ruthlessly cut me down? Unbelievable! While I was running out the door, you were back there scoring with her. I'm so disgusted right now. At least Greg didn't betray me that…"

"Greg and Tawny know too." Heather's hand flew to her mouth from the shock of the blurt. "I didn't mean to…"

"NO!" Sara lurched away another giant step. "She was just in class with me _as my friend_. We were having a great time. She's my friend. She wouldn't have…and Greg…he's like a brother to me. Oh my god…how many others? Catherine? Warrick? I know you wouldn't tell Nick because **she** makes him sick. No…you couldn't tell Nick because he would never lie to my face, he'd refuse. Tell me he doesn't know! Tell me Carrie doesn't know!"

Jim placed his hand on his aching heart. "I swear he doesn't know, Sara, which means Carrie doesn't. Catherine and Warrick don't know either. Just Greg and Tawny."

"Well…aren't they going to be sad they missed this big reveal?" The tears started to flow as she slipped into a brutal memory…

_With a pleasant smile on her face, Suzie led the way to the high school library. "Thanks so much again for agreeing to tutor me, Sara. I'm so bad at Science. I really owe you. In just two weeks I've learned so much." _

"_It's not a problem." Sara returned the popular girl's smile. Even though she hated cliques and Suzie was the queen of one, when the girl came crying for help a couple of weeks previously, she didn't turn her down. How could she after the sad story Suzie told her about her mom being diagnosed with cancer? Her mother's illness had impacted her studying so much that Suzie could possibly lose her cheerleading scholarship to University of Michigan if she didn't pull up her science and math grades this quarter. "What do you want to study today?" _

"_History." _

_Sara tilted her head curiously as they entered the library. "But I didn't think you had a problem with history?" _

"_I don't." When she glanced over and saw eight of her friends gathered around a table she smirked. "I love history. Especially the juicy stuff…the scandals. Oh look…come meet my friends." _

"_Um…okay." Nervously, Sara adjusted her blue sweater and pushed some hair behind her left ear and when she approached the table of grinning popular students she gave a tentative, "Hi". _

"_So, Sara…" Suzie handed her books to her jock boyfriend, Rod. "We'd love to hear your take on this little piece of history." Holding out her hand, Suzie received a small pile of printed pages from her best friend Jane. With uncontainable glee on her face she held up the first page. _

_Sara's heart stopped as she saw the printed newspaper article on her father's murder. "How did…" _

_Suzie snickered, "Your mommy killed your daddy, huh? That explains why you're so weird." _

_Rod stared down at the shocked girl. "Totally understandable that you're fucked up from that psycho trauma. Explains why you never have a date too. Who would go out with the daughter of husband-killer?" Acting like Norman Bates wielding a knife, he pretended to repeatedly stab his pal John while imitating the infamous soundtrack._

_The gang loved it._

_Staring at Suzie, Sara meekly asked, "This whole time…these two weeks…it was all a set up for this?" _

"_Yeah!" Suzie slipped into her boyfriend's arms. "I'm good. You didn't suspect a thing. Not even when Janey and I were laughing about you in gym class yesterday and you heard us say your name." _

_Tears streaming down her cheeks, Sara fled the library to the sounds of hysterical laughter and hurtful name calling. _

Bolting backwards from the touch of her husband's hand, she snapped out of the memory. "Don't lay a hand on me." The tears were flowing.

"Sara…" With a heavy heart he said, "Honey, please…"

"Stay away from me!" She stared at him broken hearted. "Because you were laughing about it in front of me too." Crushed, she choked out the words. "At the party…

_Nick placed his hands on Carrie's shoulders. "I can't believe what I'm learning about you tonight. What else don't I know?" _

"_A woman should always have some mystery," She teased._

_Gil raised his whisky glass and chortled, "Just ask Jim, he's got a mystery lady of his own." _

Decimated by her husband's betrayal, Sara weakly whispered, "I gave you that party to make you feel special and in return you degraded me in front of my so-called friends. You betrayed me. I'm so stunned I can't really fathom how much right now. But I'm so familiar with the concept I know it when I feel it…and I'm feeling it deep. After everything we just went through with your father. After Tahoe. After…" Her hand landed on her womb. "I can't believe you."

Gil felt powerless. If he pushed it would be disrespectful. If he backed away he would appear unfeeling.

"Greg and Tawny didn't know at the party," Heather announced in a remorseful tone hoping to alleviate some of the damage. "They found out accidentally when they drove Jim home and stopped to use his restroom. Jim made them swear not to tell you because he had already had made plans to tell you on Saturday."

Lowering his head Jim confessed, "She's right and Sanders wasn't about to cross me considering my position at the lab. He's got a baby on the way. He needs his job. I didn't threaten him, but it's common sense."

Gil pleaded with his eyes while fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But he knew physical assertiveness was not the way to go right now. She needed space.

Moving her gaze between Gil and Brass, Sara remarked in exasperation, "Wow…she must really have a hold on the two of you to get you to toss your moral character out the window so easily." Sick to her stomach, Sara began walking backwards. "All I want is to be left alone." She tossed everything to the ground except her gym bag. "Don't think about following me." With the back of her hand she wiped her tears. "Don't call me. Just stay away." And as she turned she demanded, "You've betrayed me enough already, so you better listen to me now."

Raw with despair, Gil watched his wife disappear into the night. "She's absolutely right." He closed his eyes.

Heather took Jim's hand. "She just needs time to cool off and then she'll be able to discuss it rationally."

"You think so, huh?" Pulling away his hand, Jim despondently replied, "That's what I said about Ellie." With his eyes on the ground and his hands in his pockets, he walked away.

Standing alone with Gil, Heather commented, "If the truth is going to hurt anyway, why delay it?"

Turning to face her he replied, "How ironic to hear you say that since it was exactly my thought that morning when I phoned for the warrant."

"Apples to oranges."

He waited for a more detailed explanation.

"You didn't really know if I was guilty or innocent when you phone for the warrant, you were only suspicious. Delaying your actions in that scenario would have ultimately caused you and me significantly less discomfort." Folding her arms across her chest she asked the distraught man, "Tell me…were you merely _suspicious _that your wife might react badly if she found out you didn't tell her the truth, or did you know without question that she'd feel hurt and betrayed?" The answer was immediately clear in his eyes. "And yet you chose to keep the truth from her. Why? There's something you can ponder while you wait for her to cool off." She removed her ball cap before heading for the parking lot. "For what it's worth…I sincerely hope the two of you can make it work."

Without comment he left her side and retreated into his vehicle. Once seated, Gil slouched in the driver's seat and closed his eyes.

**Crime Lab  
****8:25 p.m. **

Joann, the Swing Shift Supervisor, slammed down her phone when Jim Brass didn't answer. "What the hell is going on!" She had several burning questions about the Dollhouse case and the evidence which that was left for her shift to process. However, not a single person who worked on the case that afternoon…Grissom, Nick, Greg, Sara, Pete, Jas or Sofia, was answering their pages or cellphones. Granted they weren't technically on shift, but considering the gravity of the case she felt they should be on standby to field questions.

Glancing at her watch she decided, with only ninety minutes until shift change, she'd sit on her hands and leave it all for Warrick to handle. After all, it was his second night in the Supervisor job and he was probably ready for a challenge.

**Greg's Apartment**

**8:35 p.m. **

Lying snuggly on the couch facing each other under the blanket they had finally remembered to snatch, Greg and Tawny enjoyed the soft music playing and the looks of contentment in each other's eyes. After sharing such a powerful experience, the intimacy between them was flowing.

Finally Tawny whispered, "I think I really am guilty of trapping you this time."

Puzzled, he lovingly asked, "How can you trap me if I already got you pregnant?"

"I trapped you emotionally," She clarified in a guilty tone. "In your most vulnerable moment I asked you to pledge your feelings for me. I'm sure you would have agreed to anything only seconds away from bliss."

He pushed the hair out of her eyes and lovingly prompted, "Then ask me again now that I'm coherent."

She jumped at the chance. "How much do you love me, Greg?"

"So much," He answered without hesitation while gazing into her beautiful brown eyes.

Excited by the confidence in his reply she quizzed, "And how long will you love me?"

He repeated the same answer from before. "Forever." After pausing long enough to savor the love in her eyes, he propped up on an elbow and whispered, "Tawny…there was a time in my life years ago when the only thing I wanted to do was disappear." It was the impromptu beginning of a confession. And for a second he thought he would backpedal, but then he knew in his heart he should forge on. "When I was thirteen…I told you a little about it yesterday, remember? Being bullied…tortured actually, at my middle school, and my parents near divorce over how to raise me."

"Yes, and believe me, I know all about wanting to disappear," She lamented as she caressed his cheek. "Why do you think I ran away?"

"I mean _really_ disappear…" On the brink of divulging his darkest secret he took a steadying breath. "I mean disappear _forever_…not just from school, or home…_from life_."

"You mean…" When he nodded she didn't finish her statement.

"Did you ever think it?"

"No." She shook her head. "Not even on the worst day."

"Good." It made him feel better to know she never did or could entertain the possibility. "I wondered about that and I'm relieved to know that in spite of everything you've gone through, you've never been there. It's an awful place to be, even for a moment. And if you happen to stay there longer than a moment…" His voice cracked. "If you stay there too long…"

When she saw his eyes welling up, hers followed suit. "Did you think it when you were thirteen, Greg? Or…"

Taking her hand he gave it a squeeze. "Remember our first date when I asked you not to tell anyone that I liked romantic movies…"

"I told you that even your darkest secrets are safe with me." Her heart ached from the sadness building in his eyes. "Trust me." She clutched his hand.

After acknowledged his faith in her with a nod, he bared his soul. "The doctors told my mom if she found me twenty minutes later I wouldn't have made it." As the first tear streamed down his cheek he confessed, "The thing is…she wasn't supposed to be coming home for five hours. My dad…he was away on a trip with some friends. I picked that day and time for a reason." His voice cracked as he spoke of the details he and his mom hadn't shared for almost two decades. "You see…I wasn't doing it to get attention. I had plenty of attention…every day, I had my mom and dad trying to control me, I had those bastards at school pounding the shit the out of me, and I had their girlfriends laughing their asses off at me. I wanted the opposite of attention. I wanted the attention to end. I wanted everything to end."

Tawny's eyes blurred from her tears. It was so hard to hear and twice as hard to believe that the sweetest, funniest guy she ever met had once fallen so far into despair.

"I knew what I was doing." In a distant voice he described the plan as the memory played like a movie in his head. "I went to school as usual but after first period, I snuck out and came back home. With my dad out of town and my mom not due home until after four, I knew no one would find me until it was too late." As he gulped in air, salty tears slipped into his open mouth. "I went to my parents' bathroom and took two bottles of pills…tranquilizers for my mom's migraines. Then I went to the wet bar in the living room and grabbed a full bottle of vodka. I didn't write a note or do anything fancy because I didn't want to waste any time." He swallowed hard. "I was focused."

Devastated by the thought of what might have been, Tawny's tears flowed as she wiped away Greg's.

"But my mom…" He paused for another deep breath. "This is really hard…it's…my mom thought you should know. You should know. I haven't said this stuff since it happened so it's all coming back and…"

"Take your time." So he wouldn't center on her distress, she forced herself to pull it together. "I'm not going anywhere."

Finding the strength to continue in her steady gaze, he revealed, "That day, my mom realized she forgot her grade book at home. Never in her life had she forgotten that thing. She was really protective of it. You know…it was before teachers had computers. You lose that book and the whole year is gone. It was **always** in her briefcase before she went to bed at night, so when she left in the morning it went with her. But…on that day…"

Tawny smiled through her despair. "She left it at home."

"Yes." Once again he had to force the words out. "On her desk…and when she had a free period, she came home to get it…that's when she found me in living room." Trembling, he rested against the back of the couch. "The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital…with my mom asleep in a chair next to the bed…" Cracking completely he eeked out the last part. "…holding my hand. I shouldn't be here, Tawny. I don't deserve…"

Blanketing him with her body she soothed, "You were temporarily lost and she was meant to find you. She had to because seventeen years later I would be lost and need you to find me…and when we found each other, we were meant to make this baby growing inside me. Believe that for me. Can you?"

He managed to affirm her request with a nod while emoting in her loving embrace.

In silence she held him until Greg was able to compose himself from the painful memory and the heavy feelings of regret. "Feeling better?" Tawny tenderly inquired as she ran her fingers through his hair, subtly pushing it from his damp face.

"Yes…because of you." That's when he knew his mom was right. If ever the time came in the future, Tawny would be able to pull him out of the hole. She had the right stuff. And in that moment of perfect clarity he spoke from the heart. "That was a very scary time in my life when all I wanted to do was _avoid _forever, but now…with you, Tawny…" Reaching out, he gently placed his hand on her tear-streaked cheek. "Forever is what I want more than anything." Filling his lungs with air and his heart with hope he wistfully said, "So…Tawny Ann Cooper…now that I know what I want more than anything…" An adoring smile dawned on his face. "…I don't want to _pretend _we're married like the song says."

Breathless from the realization of where he was going, Tawny's eyes exploded with excitement.

"I want to ask you something." After placing a delicate kiss on the back of her hand he whispered, "I'm going to ask it even though we're on my old couch and not in a romantic place. Yeah…I'm going to ask it even though we're both emotional wrecks from dealing with my baggage, rather than out on the town blissed out over a bottle of Cristal. And even though we're naked instead of dressed to the nines, I'm going to ask anyway…even though the wrong music is definitely playing..."

They shared a sweet laugh and then Tawny said, "Do you want to stop and change the music?"

"Hell no!" He beamed with excitement. "But wait, my preamble it gets even more pathetic. I'm going to ask my question even though the only ring I have to give you is a glazed Krispy Kreme!"

"You know I love Krispy Kremes!" She gushed with anticipation. "Ask anyway."

"If you insist…" Holding her hand he breathed in and out twice before starting. "Tawny…

Unfortunately a harsh knock on the door ruined the critical moment.

Tawny couldn't believe the disastrous timing of the unwelcome visitor. "Let's not answer it. We're not even dressed." If it was a Girl Scout with cookies she was fully prepared to whack her over the head with the box and if it was someone thumping the Bible she was fully prepared to tell them to go to hell. "It's okay, keep talking!"

Greg dropped back against the couch cushion terribly disappointed that the momentum of his proposal was lost. And just when they thought the visitor had left, and was about to attempt to recapture the mood, instead of a knock there was a bang. "I know you're in there. Greg, your Tahoe is in the parking lot and Tawny, you left me a note saying you would be at home. I want to talk to you…now."

"It's Sara," Greg remarked with surprise in his voice.

"Whoa…I didn't think she'd be this ticked about me leaving dance class early."

Greg shook his head. "Nah…she wouldn't get pissed over something that trivial. Something else must be upsetting her." Concerned, Greg sat up with Tawny in his arms and shouted, "Hey, Sara! I was just getting in the shower so I need to throw some clothes on. Give me two minutes."

Masking her disappointment, Tawny wrapped the blanket around her body and followed her almost-fiancé into their bedroom to grab some clothes and see what was upsetting their friend.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 9 

**Posting:** late 5/16

Thanks for reading and commenting,

Maggs


	9. Losing It Part 9

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 80: Losing It – Part 9**

**Greg's Apartment  
****8:54 p.m.**

Anxious to see what was upsetting Sara, Greg hurried out of the bedroom wearing a black t-shirt and distressed jeans.

"Wait!" Tawny shrieked as she yanked on her gym shorts and sports bra that she had taken off upon returning from The Fitness Den. "We need to splash some cold water on our faces so she can't tell we were crying! And we have to fix our hair!" Glancing over at his she corrected, "**I** have to fix my hair. Yours is really screwed up but, she won't think that's abnormal."

Detouring into the bathroom Greg remarked, "She really couldn't have had better timing. If she had knocked earlier she would have either caught us having sex or bawling our eyes out. But, if she knocked a minute later she would have buzzkilled one of the happiest moments in our life together." Grinning he added, "Assuming you were planning on answering yes."

Pleased to learn she hadn't imagined the beginnings of a proposal, she joked through a sunny smile while fixing her hair, "I was going to tell you that I'd have to think about it and get back to you."

Satisfied that his eyes didn't look puffy nor his hair too sexed, he strolled out of the bathroom with Tawny on his heels and offered a suggestion. "Now that you know the question will be coming again eventually, why don't you think about it until then? That way you'll have an answer ready when the opportunity to give your reply presents itself days, weeks or months from now."

"Months!" She covered her mouth.

"Coming, Sara!" As he hurried through the main room, he saw his hastily discarded clothes and Tawny's robe. In one swoop, he scooped them up in his arms before opening the front door. "Hey, Sara." Clutching the clothes he explained, "I have laundry duty this week. Sorry it took so long. I uh…"

"Hey, Sara!" Tawny greeted in her usual bubbly tone. "Greg said you were at the door."

Sara knew the anger-fueled half hour power walk to Greg's apartment must have cooled her off because she was able to remain calm and collected rather than make a scene like she had earlier. She even managed to fake a smile. "Sorry to disturb you, but I have a question to ask you."

Tawny couldn't stop her grin as she thought…funny, Greg had one for me too but then you knocked! "I'm really sorry I took off on you. I was talking to Greg and it was such a bad day at work that he…"

"I didn't mind," Sara assured her. "My question is for both of you to answer." Clearing her throat she readied. "After seeing Lady Heather at the gym tonight, I had this crazy theory. What if she is Jim Brass's mystery lady? What do you guys think? Do you think Lady Heather is Jim Brass's mystery lady?" She held her breath while waiting to see if they'd be duplicitous like the others.

Simultaneously, Greg and Tawny looked directly at Sara and said, "Yes."

Sara released the air from her lungs. "Thank you for not lying to my face."

"We found out after leaving your party," Greg glumly admitted. "He asked us not to tell you because he had made plans to tell you himself this week. I agreed not to tell you, but if you asked me directly, I wasn't going to lie. You asked…I told the truth."

"I didn't want to lie to you either," Tawny agreed. "And I felt terrible when she showed up at class tonight. She never comes to the Monday night one. She goes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I never would have put you in that position on purpose." She felt compelled to explain further. "The only reason I went along with the cover-up was….Jim Brass is the top dog at the lab. With Greg's file already flagged, I figured it wouldn't take much to find a way to can him if the Assistant Director was pissed. Greg's job is so important to him. Plus, if he got fired his dad would think he screwed up. So I agreed to keep my mouth shut." When she felt Greg's hands land on her shoulders and give them a squeeze, she warmed, knowing exactly what it meant…he was grateful for her understanding him and thinking of him.

"See!" Sara raced to a rage. "That's the way it SHOULD be. You're not even married and you get it! Tawny…you thought of Greg's needs and feelings before a friend's. Shouldn't a husband be loyal to his wife before all others? At our wedding ceremony we promised to love and respect each other, forsaking all others as long as we both shall live! But tonight I learned my husband has known about this and lied to my face in order to preserve his friend's dirty little secret! He even joked about it in front of me. What wife wants to find out her husband was laughing at her expense?"

"How did you find out?" Greg asked.

"Brass and Heather were together outside the gym when Gil came to pick me up because my car wouldn't start. I was totally blindsided…just like I was by Suzie, just like I was when I caught Brian Anderson in bed with Miranda, just like I was when I found out Hank was engaged. Gil knows all about my history. He knows how awful I felt every time I was betrayed. I told him I never want to be sheltered because all that does is leave you unprepared. Hell, I just told him this morning when he was hiding the case from me because of the ladybug dress. He had to know this would devastate me."

Tawny turned to Greg. "Didn't I predict this!"

Greg stared clueless.

"That's right…you were wasted. I'll refresh your memory…I said to Jim Brass, that he and Gil are looking at some serious rage when Sara finds out, because women hate feeling blindsided, humiliated and betrayed."

The words were music to Sara's ears. "That's exactly what I said to them an hour ago…well, screamed really. Thank you for the empathy."

"Been there, felt your pain, Sister."

Greg noticed his neighbor across the hall was outside enjoying a smoke and the juicy conversation. "How about we take this inside? Because Puff Daddy is listening in on your personal trauma to pass the time while he's waiting for his lung cancer diagnosis."

Sara glanced over her shoulder.

Jerry the chain smoking neighbor waved. "If things don't work out at home, Sweetheart, you know where to find me."

Tawny grabbed Sara's hand and yanked her inside. "That guy is a total sleaze. He used to come into Tweeters."

"He did!" Greg shut the door and tossed the 'laundry' on the kitchen table. "Does he recognize you? Has he been scamming on you? If he comes anywhere near you I'll…"

"Honey!" She pointed to Sara. "Focus." Then she asked their guest, "Want something to drink? Decaf Iced Tea, water or beer?"

"A beer," Sara immediately answered and then she corrected her request. "Sorry…wait…I don't booze when I'm stressed. Make it Iced Tea."

"I'm on it, Sweetie," Tawny strolled into the kitchen area. "Make yourself at home."

A few feet into the apartment, she tripped over Greg's shoe. "Damn it." It reminded her of Gil's bad habit and sparked her irritation. "You do that too?"

"Sorry!" Greg snatched up his funky Pumas. "I have a bad habit of kicking off my clown shoes and leaving them."

Tawny groaned, "Drives me crazy."

With her head hung low, Sara headed for the sofa.

When Greg waltzed into the kitchen to apologize to his roommate for his umpteenth shoe-leaving infraction he saw Tawny frantically pointing toward the living room.

"What?" He whispered.

"The couch," She responded in the same hushed tone in regards to Greg's old fabric sofa that they intended on chucking before moving into the townhouse. "Remember…we got carried away and forgot to put down the sex blanket. The germphobe is about to sit in our wet spot!"

"Oh!" Dropping his shoes, Greg took off toward the living room portion of the main room and when saw Sara was about to plop, he grabbed the back of the couch with one hand, swung his legs over the top and landed smack in the middle of the couch's love zone. "Sorry…didn't want you to be alone," was the explanation he offered for his frenzied squat.

"Thanks." Initially uncomfortable by his proximity, Sara loosened up when she remembered his pregnant future-wife was only twenty feet away. "Giving me a shoulder to cry on?"

"Do you have any idea how much tear-action these shoulders have seen?" Shaking his head he revealed, "I was voted Best Shoulder to Cry On in several cities. Let me assure you…you came to the right place to mend your broken heart." He chuckled. "The really cool thing for me this time is, I don't have to worry about trying to score as your transition man, because I already have the woman of my dreams. Plus…who are we kidding?" Elbowing Sara he goaded, "You may be pissed at Gris right now, but you know the two of you aren't meant to be apart. Admit it. This isn't a…_I never want to see that bastard as long as he lives and when he dies I'll show up at his funeral in a red dress and dance on his grave_ thing you're feeling, this is a…_ I still love the stupid asshole, but how could he do this to me and how can I make him see how much he hurt me_ thing you've got going on."

In a vulnerable voice Sara confessed, "Definitely the latter." Then she looked at Greg. "You really have done this a few times."

"Totally…and the classification up front is critical because I didn't stand a chance with a girl in the _I still love the stupid asshole_ scenario. The girl shopping for the red dress though…if the guy who broke her heart cheated on her, she'd want a little retribution sex, in which case I gladly offered more than my shoulder." He laughed. "That only happened two very memorable times. All the other times I made the girl feel better and then she outsourced the retribution sex to a jock."

Tawny set Sara's iced tea on the coffee table and then winked at her lover. "Those girls didn't know what they were missing, Baby."

Greg gushed as his almost-fiancée eyed him adoringly.

"Watching the two of you ooze happiness is making me feel worse. I should go."

"No!" They both demanded.

"We'll tone it down," Tawny informed their guest. "We uh…had this special moment before you knocked." She opted not to go with the truth…after incredibly passionate sex that propelled us to a new level of intimacy, Greg got to telling me how he tried to take his life at thirteen and nearly died. After the intensity we experienced from crying together over his darkest secret, it prompted him to start popping the question. "We had a baby moment…I discovered I have a little pooch." She patted her belly. "I showed Greg and we've been a little mushy ever since."

Both Greg and Sara gawked at her.

"Oh my god!" Tawny's hand rushed to her mouth. "I forgot you're hoping you're pregnant."

Looking at his significant other he informed her, "Sweetie, no offense, but you stink at the comforting a girl with a broken heart thing. This is why I never had my girlfriend in the room when I was working my magic."

Trying to take her mind off her own problem for a moment, Sara asked, "Exactly how many steady girlfriends have you had in your life, Greg?"

"Two including Tawny." Glancing over at his future wife he clarified, "But I've only been in love once."

Sara sank a little deeper into the cushions. "Is Jim in a real relationship with her or is it just casual sex? How serious is it?"

Greg let his mouth speak without his mind's consent. "With Lady Heather, I doubt the sex is casual!" Now it was his turn to cover his mouth. "Maybe I'm a little rusty."

Watching the distress on Sara's face grow, Tawny decided to take a direct approach. "Hey, let's do what Dr. Myers would ask us to do." She took a seat on the one spot of couch left and sat sideways looking over Greg at Sara. "Let's define the areas of concern. There were three people involved…Heather, Jim and Gil. You are pissed at all three, but for different reasons and to varying degrees…your husband being the one you're most ticked at by far…and rightly so. Where do you want to start?"

"Let's start with the easy one…the mean girl who has been following me since I was nine trying to make me feel like shit," Sara replied. "Her current incarnation is Lady Heather. Before college they exploited the fact I was a foster care kid and that my mom killed my dad, and in..."

"I didn't know your mom killed your dad, Sara." Tawny felt a chill up her spine.

Greg looked at his friend. "You didn't say I could tell her, so I didn't."

Sara was grateful for the loyalty on a day when she felt she had very little. She was also grateful that after nearly a year in therapy and achieving closure, she was able to discuss the subject calmly. "My dad battered my mom, physically and psychologically. One day, when I was nine, she decided to end the abuse permanently. It's one of the reasons I love my job…I get to catch guys who think they're getting away with it."

"I'm really sorry that happened to you, Sara," Tawny empathized. "I know how tough it is to lose a parent and lose your home."

"I know you do." Sara found a smile to share. "That's why it was really important to me to let you stay at the townhouse. I wanted you to have a nice place to call home."

"Aww! Really! I thought you did it for Chuckles." Tawny lunged over Greg and threw her arms around Sara and hung on for dear life. "I love you for thinking of me! I'm so glad you're my friend."

Sara balked at the physical affection and when he realized it, Greg gently peeled his girl away from his friend. "Let's not smother her, Honey. Sara's never been much of a PSV'er."

"Sorry. Back on topic." Tawny returned to her spot. "Here's something ironic…earlier this year, when Heather was trying to convince me to work for her, she told me her life story."

Shocked, Sara asked, "She wanted you to be a dominatrix?"

"No, a submissive."

Sara and Greg's expressions sickened in sync.

"Yeah…it kills me thinking it too," Greg admitted. "A victim of multiple sex crimes getting pushed around by men trying to get off by feeling powerful over her."

"Okay, but that's not the irony, and this isn't about me." Tawny redirected the discussion. "Heather was a victim of spousal abuse. That's how she ended up in Vegas. It was psychological at first and then he started pushing her around. Eventually he got real rough and she fought back, sending him to the hospital with a cracked skull. She packed up her stuff and her daughter and bolted to here. A woman in her apartment complex was working as a dominatrix and recruited her…the rest is history."

While Sara sat quietly pondering the revelation, Greg joined the discussion. "It's a common scenario…the victim of a bully becomes a bully. Heather got pushed around, so now she pushes around other people to feel powerful. I did an extensive paper on the subject in college for a Psych class. But, Sara, don't feel bad, even though I'm versed on the subject, I still get sucked in myself. I was just mouthing off to your husband about Heather being a bitch, and take Hodges for example. Most days I don't let him get to me but, every once in a while, if I'm feeling vulnerable, I snap. Then I feel like an idiot for letting him get to me. It's my tweak. Sounds like it's yours too…everyone has baggage that sets off their hot buttons. It's just something to keep working on."

Tawny slyly slipped her hand in Greg's and gave it a squeeze.

"Thanks," Sara replied. "Because I do feel like an idiot falling into the same trap."

"Here's what you need to remember…what I'm supposed to remember….when someone bullies you, it's a sign they are insecure with themselves. People who feel good about themselves don't enjoy tormenting other people. How many people do you know with happy lives that give you shit?" He looked at both women. "Right…no one."

Tawny chimed in. "I can vouch for that one. Even though I was the most popular girl in school, before my dad died I was never mean to anyone. I was Miss Congeniality in every pageant I entered! But after my dad died and things started to get bad at home…my claws came out…especially with girls who I thought had perfect homes. I couldn't stomach their happiness. If I heard one of them going on about what their daddy bought them…look out. I'm not proud of it but, it's true. I way beyond that now."

Greg slipped his arm around Tawny. "Mean girls are insecure either in general, or there's something about you that tweaks them and they react to it by coming down on you. It could be a personality trait in you that they are scared to acknowledge in themselves so when they see it in you they feel compelled to attack. Or, it's something tangible you have which they don't. Like in Tawny's case…targeting girls with happy homes. What did you used to do, Sweetie?"

"Sometimes…if a girl was talking about something special they did with their dad, I would um…tell them they had no choice but to do stuff with their dad because they were too weird or ugly to get a boyfriend." She cringed. "I was such a bitch about it too." She felt twice as bad now after hearing that severe bullying contributed to Greg's teenage crisis.

Greg turned to Sara. "And once the mean girl sees that you feel bad about it, they feel better because they've taken the special thing away from you too. It's all about them, it's not about you. That's what you're supposed to remember. That's why it happens without provocation most of the time. You're really not doing anything to them. It's all in their head."

Sara finally commented, "Okay, but this isn't about Heather wanting Gil. If she wanted him she could have had him. She's the one that walked away when he tried to apologize. And she's obviously into Jim or what would be the point of putting up with all this bullshit? Surely she could find someone else to date that would be more convenient?"

"Yeah, I agree." Greg kicked his feet up on the coffee table while he pondered aloud. "It's not about Grissom. It's about something else you have…maybe from him? Like a commitment maybe? But if her first marriage was so awful and she's not married since, hmm…" He looked to Tawny. "Since I'm fuzzy about Saturday night, can you remember anything significant that would support or discount that theory?"

"Um…here's what happened." She turned her eyes to the ceiling as she recalled the chain of events. "You told her she was a colossal bitch to Sara…that started it. Then Heather snapped and said you wanted to sleep with her the night you were working the case. Then I got pissed when I thought you were into bondage and were gonna spring it on me one day. You reminded me not to blow up before getting your thoughts and then Heather accused you of being domineering and controlling. That set you off and you told her I wasn't used to guys being straight with me and you were just reminding me that we agreed to communicate respectfully. Then she really started needling you and you played right into her hands. You told her you can see why Sara loses it around her. By the time she was done with you, you looked like a defensive fool and she looked like the cat that ate the canary."

Greg stared in awe. "Whoa…I don't remember most of that." Then he winked at Sara. "I do recall puking everything I inhaled at your party on her boots though. Hold that happy thought in your head for a while."

Sara couldn't help but smile from the revelation and the imagery. "And you ate all that chicken. Thanks, Bro. You're my new hero."

"Uh…" Tawny groaned. "Guess who ended up cleaning up after Chuckles? I'm the_ real_ hero of the story!"

"Oh, enough about me!" Greg declared. "Back to the analysis."

Sara desperately wanted to analyze the information and find a logical explanation, but her mind was so cluttered with emotion she wasn't her usual self.

Greg, having spent a lot of time evaluating bully behavior, came to the answer rapidly. "Got it! Hearing a woman being protected by a man is her trigger. Which makes total sense since her husband did the opposite. And…from what we know about women who enter abusive relationships, maybe she didn't have her father's protection either."

"Oooh!" Tawny shrieked with delight. "You're good, Honey! That's a great theory."

Sara built on the concept. "She came into the locker room at the gym and I flaunted my wedding band and told her she couldn't upset me because I knew my marriage was solid. So, if your theory is true, it would have triggered her and because I didn't know my husband was keeping this from me, I was playing right into her hands. She went on to ask me questions…does my husband lie to me, does he respect me, do I trust him? Of course, I answered a confident yes to all of the above." Cringing, she dropped her head in her hands. "No wonder she was salivating. She knew I'd be finding out that all those things weren't true."

Tawny functioned as scorekeeper. "So we've got her figured out, onto Jim."

Sara didn't hesitate. "I think he was a coward who didn't want to tell me he was hooked up with the woman who berated me. A woman he ruthlessly bashed all night at The Lunar Lounge…remember, Greg?"

"Uh…" He nodded. "Most of it, but I was pretty wasted that night too. He was definitely cutting her down though…to make you feel better." He glanced at Tawny. "I must sound like such a boozer to you. It was in good fun both times. I wasn't drinking to forget or anything."

"I'm not worried." She flashed a reassuring smile. "I can see why that would be confusing, Sara."

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "Why would Heather, a woman we now theorize yearns for a man's protection, put up with a duplicitous guy? It makes no sense."

"Unless…" Greg theorized. "Jim means enough to Heather that she was willing to put up with it for a little while because she understood why he was hesitant to tell you."

Tawny added her own thoughts. "Which totally explains why Heather was pissed on Saturday, but Jim was able to calmly get her into the kitchen and when she returned she apologized to Greg and me and congratulated us on the baby. She wouldn't listen to a man unless she believed him or cared enough about him to put her own needs second. Kind of how I also consider what's best for Greg now when I'm making decisions, instead of only thinking about myself." Poking her man she gave an example, "Like this morning when you got that call about the job. If I was only thinking of myself I would encourage you to take it for the money."

"Job offer?" Sara's mind temporarily switched gears. "At the lab?"

"No. And I'm not taking it," He quickly informed her. "Back to Brass…there's no way he slept with Heather the night we were working the case. If he had, he would have wanted to go home and go to bed, not party with us. No offense to Brass, but let's be realistic. Maybe it was a love/hate thing. That night he was pissed at her so he goes to confront her and later when he thinks about it, he realizes he's fascinated with her or attracted to her. He wants to explore it, but he's secretive because he feels guilty because of how she treated you."

Tawny asked, "Are you and Jim that close?"

"Yes." Sara released a sigh. "In my sessions with Dr. Myers I realized I was using him as a father-figure. And he has issues with his own daughter so I think it worked for him too."

Greg nodded vigorously. "And since he knows about your past, he wouldn't want to disappoint you like your own father did. So he was waiting for the right time to break the news." Taking Tawny's hand he confessed, "I can relate to that, trust me. It's exactly why I haven't told my dad about the baby. I want to frame it right. At first Brass probably wanted to give it some time after the incident at the Dominion. Then you and Gris had some personal stuff going on. It snowballs. You start thinking…a better time will come. My dad was in town yesterday, I should have told him about the baby, but I thought…wait until you go to California, it's only two weeks away. See how that works?"

Tawny felt compelled to ask a question. "Does it bother you that it's Heather? I mean because she slept with Gil, not necessarily that she's been bitchy to you? Because her bitchiness to you is a valid reason for you not to like her, while the other is not. No one likes someone who cuts them down unless they are self-loathing and enjoy the validation."

Sara considered it carefully and then replied honestly, "I think it's kind of strange to want to sleep with someone after your friend did. Why would Jim…"

"Sorry, not to a guy." Greg jumped in. "It's all good. Especially in this scenario because Gris didn't kick Heather to the curb, so Jim's not getting sloppy seconds in the traditional sense."

Looking at her man, Tawny said, "That's such a relief because I've been worried how you would react if you found out I did the wild thing with Nick at a party once."

"WHAT!" Greg clutched his head. "How long ago?"

"Yeah…it's not a big deal until it's PERSONAL! I was proving a point." Tawny shook with laughter. "I never did the nasty with Nicky, Baby."

Once he could speak, Greg clarified, "I said a guy doesn't mind sleeping with a woman after his friend is done with her, I NEVER said a guy doesn't mind finding out his friend slept with his serious girlfriend after the fact. To a guy, that's a HUGE difference."

Sara chuckled. "The look on your face, Greg. What difference would it make if she slept with Nick, now that she's happy with you and Nick is engaged to Carrie?"

"It's squicky on so many levels…except one." He grinned. "But it would be impolite to share it."

Tawny knew exactly what he was referring to…the fact that she repeatedly told him he was the best lover she ever had.

Sara finally answered the question. "Aside from thinking it's a little gross that Jim wants someone Gil had, and even though I think what Heather does for a living is nasty, and considering she's been a bitch to me during every one of our interactions…I don't have to like who Jim dates and he shouldn't expect me to like someone who has gone out of their way to make me uncomfortable."

"Right." Tawny looked at Greg and saw he was nodding.

"It was his _lying and joking about it to my face_ that set me off more than finding out it was her. But if I take into account the snowball effect you mentioned Greg, and he tells me the jokes were just a nervous reaction, not an attempt to hurt my feelings, I will be able to understand."

Greg nodded approvingly. "Great…two down, one to go."

Her voice turning sad once more Sara said, "Which brings us to the last of the trio…my husband's role in this cover up, which is by far, the worst part." She checked her watch. "It's nine-thirty and I…"

"Nine-thirty!" Greg jumped up. "Damn! I only had an hour break."

Staring at Greg's ass as he darted across the room, Sara commented, "I'd change your pants before you head back. It looks like you sat in something. There's a spot on the couch too." Her nose activated. "Bleach with…" She leapt from the couch. "…a hint of musk. OH! That's what you were doing when I knocked and why you vaulted over the couch to sit there!"

Tawny jumped up,pleading for clemency from the germphobe. "Usually we'd use a blanket but we're tossing this couch when we move and well…it's been six days and I was in a hurry. Seriously, I don't usually defile furniture! Great…now just like Nick and Carrie, we'll be banned from your Tahoe cabin."

Greg grabbed his other jeans off the kitchen table and swapped them out while he stood behind the kitchen counter. "If I see Gris, do you want me to tell him where you are? If you don't feel up to going home tonight you're more than welcome to stay here." He chuckled as he buttoned his pants. "Since the couch is out of the question, you can have my sleeping bag."

"Thanks." Sara considered the offers. "Tell him so he doesn't worry. I'll see how I'm feeing after I talk the rest of this through with Tawny and if I don't feel like going home I'll use your sleeping bag."

"And no listening to depressing Lilith Rock, Sara. Tawny has Kelly Clarkson's Thankful, that's as pissed off as you should go."

Tawny rushed over to see her man off to work for the second time that day. "Be right back, Sara, I'm going to step out for a minute. Have a donut! They're on the kitchen counter." Grabbing Greg's hand she hurried out the front door and once there, she tossed her arms around his neck. "I love you." She pecked his lips. "Don't work too late."

"I won't." He grabbed a kiss from her lips and then bent over to brush one over her womb. "I love you both." Then he hurried away, amazed at how much emotion he had felt in the course of a day. When he left that morning he wasn't sure what he could handle. Now, fifteen hours later, he felt balanced and calm…all because of the love of a good woman. As he climbed into his Tahoe and saw the photo file of the little girl in the ladybug dress, he hoped that Nick was able to find the same peace in Carrie's arms.

**The Blakes  
****Two hours earlier…**

When Carrie gained entry into Fort Knox, after she stowed her belongings in the guest room, she prepared to do exactly what she and Wendy had agreed upon…play dumb. It was a test to see if Nick would be fronting.

"He's in my bedroom reading McKenna a bedtime story," Wendy informed her. "She'll be sleeping with me tonight."

"I don't blame Nick for being paranoid with that mailing list book missing." She shuddered at the thought of a nefarious person snatching a loved one as she watched Wendy re-alarm the house. "I'll head back there."

"Have you eaten?"

"No. I'm starving."

Wendy walked towards the kitchen. "I'll make you some snacks and leave them in the guest room."

"Thanks, Sis." Smiling, she headed down the hall towards the master suite. Just a foot outside the open door she heard Nick reading in the sweetest voice…

"The Duke went from house to house, with a small glass slipper in his hand. For the prince had said he would marry no one but the girl who could wear that tiny shoe."

McKenna asked in a sleepy voice, "Aunt Carrie has a lot of shoes. It would be easy for her to lose one. Is that what happened? You found one of her shoes and took it around and when it fit you asked her to marry you?"

In the hall, Carrie covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Lowering the book for a second, Nick, who was lying on top of the downy white comforter, told the curious girl, "Your Aunt Carrie has more shoes than my five sisters combined when I was growing up."

Burrowed under the covers holding her blankie in one hand and her tattered stuffed bunny Mr. Peter Rabbit in the other, the little girl gasped, "Wow! You must have been really poor! Did you have food every day?"

Nick chuckled. "Don't worry, Sweetie Pie, we weren't poor and we always had plenty of food. My mom and dad just didn't believe in spoiling their kids. We had a pair of church shoes, two pair of school shoes and a pair of play shoes. Then anything extra we needed for sports or riding. That's it. When we got older we were expected to get jobs if we wanted to buy extra stuff."

"My dad says grandpa spoils Aunt Carrie rotten. Is that gonna be your job when you marry her?"

"I started doing that the first night I met her."

In a dreamy princess voice she asked, "Did you love her as soon as you saw her, like the Prince loved Cinderella when he saw her at the ball?"

Pressed against the outside wall of the room, Carrie anxiously waited Nick's reply.

"I thought she was very pretty when I first saw her and then when your mommy introduced her to me and I got to talk to her, I realized she was smart and funny too. That's when I really wanted to go on a date with her. So I asked her out to dinner and when we were out, I'd say it took me…oh…about two hours to fall crazy in love with her. And it wasn't because the shoe fit that I asked her to marry me, it was because her heart fit so well with mine."

With her hands over her heart, Carrie melted from her fiancé's loving words.

Confused, McKenna asked, "How did you see Aunt Carrie's heart to know it fit with yours? Did you get an x-er-ray like Ryan did at the hospital when he broke his arm?"

"No," He laughed sweetly again. "It just felt right."

"Eww! You felt her heart! Was it mushy?"

Outside the door, Carrie shook with laughter while wondering how her patient fiancé was going to get out of this corner he talked himself into so well.

"Not feel like in touching with my fingers." He paused to think of a way to explain it. "Like in the story…even before she loses her shoe, the Prince knows Cinderella is the girl for him, right?"

"How did he know?" She followed her question with a lion-sized yawn.

"Because they did lots of talking when they were dancing…and they found out stuff…things like…how they wanted to have the same number of kids and live in the same kind of house. When they were dancing, if the Prince had said he only wanted to live by the ocean and Cinderella said I only want to live in the mountains they wouldn't have matched. Your aunt and I want to live in the same place."

"I sure hope it's Las Vegas because I'll miss you and Aunt Carrie if you move to the ocean." Her eyes fluttered shut and she hugged her Mr. Peter Rabbit a little tighter.

"Don't worry, we're not going anywhere." Relieved the interrogation was over, he returned to the story. "Every girl in the land tried to put it on. The mean stepsisters tried hardest of all. But not a one could wear the glass shoe. And where was Cinderella? Locked in her room. Poor Cinderella, it looked like the Duke would surely pass her by. But her little mice friends took the key and pushed it under the door."

Unable to stay away a second longer, Carrie strolled into the room. "Hi, Honey." She pointed to the bed. "You can stop reading…your audience fell asleep."

"I wondered why the questions suddenly stopped." While gently slipping away, he glanced over at McKenna. A chill raced up his spine when he saw her lying still on her back under the stark white cover. Bolting to his feet he clutched his chest. Luckily his hasty departure disturbed the little girl enough for her to shift and snap him out of the trance.

"Nicky?" When Carrie placed her hands on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze she felt the tension. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I…" By the time he turned around he was calm. "Did Wendy tell you about the missing mailing list book and this killer on the loose?"

"Yeah, when I showed up."

"It has me a little jumpy is all."

She knew immediately he was fronting. "So, tough day?"

"Some of it." Taking her in his arms he asked, "How was your day? Your secretary said you were unexpectedly in court for most of it." He started walking her out of the room. "What happened?"

Pretending she didn't know he had a nervous breakdown that morning she replied, "My day stunk. You know that jerk I work with, Clive Braxley?"

"He's your Sofia…irritating as hell."

"Right! He was blowing a statutory rape case and asked me to tell my personal story to the girl because…and I quote…he heard it worked like a charm and I could make her testify." She shivered thinking about Tawny sleeping with the arrogant ass TWICE, including once to avoid the hassle of telling him no. "Needless to say I blasted the pig. By six o'clock, I elevated his status from jerk to supreme asshole."

Pissed that any man would toss around Carrie's story so insensitively he grumped, "I think I'll pay Mr. Braxley a visit the next time I'm at the courthouse to testify."

"You gonna rough him up for me, Tex?" In the hallway she saw Wendy approaching. "I found him."

"Is my daughter asleep?"

Carrie purposely replied, "Snug as a ladybug."

Nick swallowed hard, trying not to think of the little girl and her ladybug dress.

"I'll see you two in the morning," Wendy announced. "And, Nick, you really don't have to take Sean running at five a.m."

"It's not a problem." He shook his head. "The exercise will do me good and he's really looking forward to it."

"Okay then, I'll set the alarm." She winked at Carrie. "Have a good night."

Walking down the hall he whispered, "What was that wink for? She doesn't think we're gonna get it on under her roof, does she?"

"This isn't your mama's house, Nicky." She giggled. "She gave us permission as long as we keep it down to a low roar."

"Not gonna happen." Taking her by the hand he led the way to the guest room.

"Actually, what I really want to do is talk wedding plans!" She informed him as they entered the guest room. She knew it would be the last thing he wanted to discuss.

"Wedding plans?" It was the last thing he wanted to discuss, but since she had a rough day, he wanted to make her happy. "Great, let's have it." He took a seat on the edge of the bed. "What's the topic?"

"Music." Walking across the room she turned on the portable stereo.

"We already decided on the band."

"The playlist." She readied the special song. "There's a specific song I want the band to sing and I'd like your opinion."

"Okay." Since his shoes were already off, he kicked back on the bed. "Let's hear it."

After pressing play, she raced to the end of the bed, dove next to Nick and spoke quickly so she could get it all in before the lyrics. "It's my song to you. I didn't want you to hear it until the reception, but a little birdie named Sara told me you had a really tough day in the field and I wanted to do something special to cheer you up. Taking a cue from Chuckles…I decided to play you a song from the heart."

He turned on his side to face her. "You know about what happened in the field?"

"I know." Running her fingertip over his lips she whispered, "Listen to the words." It was Sara Evans, I Could Not Ask for More.

"Very appropriate song." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I guess I shouldn't be smiling." He tried to stop. "Cause I'm in trouble for pretending nothing was wrong when you came in, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but I still love you…" Bringing her lips to his she whispered, "…even when you're fronting, Tough Guy." The last thing she wanted to do for him was play the part of the loose woman, so she was relieved when the tenderness of his kiss demonstrated it wasn't what he needed that night. He needed what she could give him without any effort…a hefty dose of love and affection.

"I love you, Carrie." He caressed her cheek. "Thank you for the song…and for your heart."

"I sure hope you don't want to _feel_ my heart." She wrinkled her nose. "Eww. I've heard they're mushy."

"You were listening." Now it was his turn to explode into a smile.

"Eavesdropping in the hallway and falling a little harder for you every minute. I started imagining you were reading to our little girl."

"Today Greg was having a rough time dealing with the fact he was becoming a daddy." Intoxicated by the love in his fiancée's eyes Nick confessed, "I can't wait to be one. Even on a day like today when I'm reminded of what's out there. Even when I'm obsessed with the pressure of being a husband and father." Securing her in his arms he closed his eyes. "I also can't wait to dance to this song with you at our wedding. I'm picturing it in my mind. You do it too and we'll compare notes."

After listening to half the song, Carrie opened her eyes. "How was it for you?"

"Fantastic! Amazing! Best damn day of my life. Everything was perfect…" He beamed. "…except the napkin color…I'm rethinking the teal."

Rolling on her back she convulsed with laughter.

"Hush now…Wendy's gonna think we're gettin' frisky."

"OH!" Carried shrieked with pleasure to goad him. "Stokes you're too much! OH!"

If asked an hour before, he would have thought it impossible to feel this happy on a horrible day. "Roxie's acting up." Covering her mouth with his hand, he rolled her on her side toward the wall. "Such a naughty girl." The tension in his body was melting like ice on July asphalt. "If you promise to behave like a lady, I'll let you go."

Still laughing uncontrollably, she nodded frantically and when he released her she informed him as she faced him, "Good thing you let me go, because I have another surprise for you."

"Really?" With his thumb he wiped away her mascara, which had smeared from her tears of laughter. "Well get to it, Baby."

Rolling over Nick, she bounced off the bed and over to her bag. "First I need supplies. While I'm getting them, you need to strip down to your boxers, Stud. Then just lie there with your eyes closed."

He tossed his blue pullover, shed his pants and socks, and then collapsed against the paisley comforter with his eyes closed and his hands locked behind his head. "Look at the level of compliance you're getting here. Impressive from a control freak, don't you think?"

"I'm in awe," She teased while setting an aromatherapy ceramic pot on the nightstand.

"Hmm…the strike of a match." Before the oil even heated, the fragrance caught his nose. "I smell lavender."

"Kind of foofy thing for a tough guy to know."

"It's part of the job." Peaking out of one eye he cautioned, "You're not thinking of tying me up to get me to have some kind of intense emotional breakthrough and release, are you? Because I still have a little of the control freak in me and…"

"No! Now keep your eyes closed." She smirked. "But I don't see why that should bother you because I heard from Wendy you're very talented when it comes to knots."

With his eyes clamped shut again, he chuckled. "Yeah…she wasn't too happy to find out about my little arrangement with Sean. But then when she heard him plead, she said we could continue the lessons. Hopefully he'll never find himself tied up again, but if he does, he'll know some tricks." Breathing deeply he savored the relaxing scent. "Maybe I should get some of this aromatherapy stuff for my office."

"A lavender scented office won't ruin your manly image?"

"Uh…not any more than having twenty cops witness me losing my mind, no."

She knew that had to be killing him. The only thing that could have made it worse would have been if his dad had been there to see it. "They'll forget eventually. When the next scandal hits, you'll be off the radar, especially if it involves sex or someone who outranks you." After shedding her clothes down to her panties, which were purposely the same color as the fragrance, she pulled on one of Nicks white v-neck t-shirts she had brought from home. He always liked when she swiped one to lounge in around the house.

"Well then, hopefully Jim does something scandalous tonight and spares me some time in the spotlight."

Lastly, she grabbed the bottle of Eucalyptus Spearmint massage oil she purchased at Bath and Body Works before driving to Wendy's. "Open your eyes." She was dangling the bottle. "I'll be your masseuse this evening. Roll over, Stress Boy."

Thrilled by the look of her in the white tee as well as her plans, his voice was thick with approval. "I wish I would have known you would do all this special stuff. And hey, if you're doing this much because you heard from Sara that I wigged out at work, I'm truly sorry I didn't leave you a voicemail when I was bawling my eyes out for Greggo and rambling about crayons. Lord knows what you would be doing if you heard me oozing vulnerability first hand." With that he flipped on his belly. "Hell, we might be at a chapel right now."

"That's right." She straddled his thighs. "Let that be a lesson to you." Pouring a hefty dollup of oil in her palm she told him, "When I was talking to Wendy she told me I need to teach you that it's okay to let your guard down. You're not going to believe her analogy. Bear in mind she knows nothing about our sex life."

"Uh…I'd beg to differ, Baby."

She vigorously rubbed her palms to warm the lotion. "Why?"

"Earlier this evening, Kenna announced that she heard you tell Wendy I was the biggest man you ever had and then she heard the two of you giggling."

"OH!" Her palm flew to her mouth. That's when the bitter oil on her skin seeped into her mouth, making her leap off the bed and reach for one of the glasses of lemonade Wendy had left on the dresser with the snacks. "She did not!"

Amused by her panic he guffawed, "What I want to know is…did you contextualize your comment for Wendy? Does she know you were only with two other guys or does she think I'm in the number one spot of Carrie's Hot 100?"

"HA!" She mounted him again. "Sorry, Honey, she knows you're the best of three. And that was the only time I've discussed my sex life with her…except for earlier on the phone." Still blushing, she confessed the details while smoothing her oil-covered hands over the tight muscles of his back. "It was the day after our first time together and I was over here. We were splitting a bottle of wine while making ten dozen cupcakes for some charity bake sale. She dropped a tub of frosting and when I bent down to pick it up, I groaned. She asked what was wrong, and in my wine bliss I blurted why I was sore from our night together, explaining that I hadn't been with anyone for two years and also sharing the detail McKenna obviously overheard. Just my luck, the one time I share stuff I get busted. The good girls always get busted!"

"Speaking of good…" Nick gave an extended moan of approval. "You're rocking my world with this massage. I hope you don't mind, but this is definitely going into my wedding vows as a requirement. Will honor and cherish as long as my wife gives me nightly massages."

"I've already written my vows a dozen times on my laptop. It calms me down at the office when I'm having a crappy day." She kneaded his Traps. "When that doesn't work I think about us in Kauai."

"On your laptop, huh?" He snickered, "And you're supposed to be a crafty lawyer type."

Squeezing extra hard she threatened, "You better not peek!"

"Ow!" When she released her death grip he pleaded, "Now do that again because it hurt so good."

While she tortured him she remarked, "I'll be changing my laptop password."

"We can override that at work and head straight for the hard drive." When her nails dug into his flesh he caved, "I promise I won't peek!"

"So, do you want to talk about what happened today? Or do you just want to bliss out and not deal?"

"Options!" He celebrated with an infectious laugh. "Do I _really _have a choice?"

"I promise both options are valid." She reached for the oil bottle and shook out another dose.

After a minute he presented a counteroffer. "I'll talk about it if you promise to keep working out the knots and you don't push to make me answer any questions I don't feel like answering. Because I'm lovin' the mood here and I'm tired of thinking."

Leaning down she dropped a kiss on his cheek. "I'll take your plea bargain."

"Thank you, Counselor." After another lavender-tinged inhale he said, "There are some parts I still can't remember…"

**Crime Lab  
****9:56 p.m. **

Greg hustled straight to Trace with his paint samples. Since it was five minutes to shift change he was hoping to drop everything off to Mandy from Swing rather than Hodges. "Hey, Mandy." She looked especially cute with her new spiky two-tone hair. "Are you dandy?"

"With you here how can I be anything but randy?"

"Sorry…I waited for years, but you took too long to come around."

They shared a laugh because she knew Greg was totally into his girlfriend and Greg knew Mandy was a lesbian and had just moved into a new house with Carol, her partner for the last two years.

Watching Greg unpack his bag she said, "Tell me whatcha got so you can scoot before your pal struts in. Because you look far too happy tonight to get pissed off."

"I am happy!" He declared as he set the last of the samples on the counter. "Tawny and I just found out we're expecting." On the way in he decided he'd start sharing the good news.

"Congratulations!" She gave him a hug. "Carol and I are batting the idea around, but we keep getting stuck on the donor issue. Someone we know versus anonymous. Hey, maybe you could volunteer, Greg," She joked. "You're smart, funny and have great teeth."

"I'm flattered, really, but knowing I have one kid coming into this world has me overloaded."

"How far along is Tawny?"

They didn't see Hodges coming through the door.

"Two months. She has her first ultrasound next week. We're hoping to see the heartbeat."

"Say it isn't so," Hodges feigned an intense shiver. "A mini-Sanders is on the way? Hmm…maybe he trapped her to prove something."

Mandy choked on her laughter as she crossed the room to her desk. "I might believe that if he was in a ballet company…in the 70s." Still laughing, she picked up the phone to dial out.

Hodges leaned in and whispered, "If the slipper fits…"

"I did a thorough search of my closet years ago and didn't find one in there." Pissed at himself for retorting, Greg huffed, "How about we just end this right here, right now?"

Raising a brow Hodges curiously inquired, "Are you saying your selective memory problem has been rectified?"

"Look…" When he saw Grissom in the doorway he changed topics. "We need all the paint samples processed ASAP and compared with the ones from the dollhouse."

Hodges stood tall. "I assume you're looking for me. Don't worry, your stuff goes right to the top, Master."

"I was looking for Greg actually," He replied in a distant voice. "We need to hit the road."

It was apparent to Greg from the expression on Grissom's face that he was fighting off emotion. "Page me when you have the results, Hodges." Stepping into the hall, Greg glanced left and right, when he saw the coast was clear he revealed, "Sara's at my place with Tawny. She's cooling off and working things out in her head." Maybe that would calm him down.

"Thanks for letting me know." Grissom hurried down the hall. "We've got to go. You don't need your kit."

A little surprised at the lack of interest, Greg followed in silence until they were in the parking lot climbing into Grissom's Tahoe. "Where are we going?"

"What did Sara do when she first arrived at your place?"

Buckling up he remarked, "Okay…I guess we're switching back to that topic. She asked Tawny and me if we thought Lady Heather was Brass's mystery lady. We both answered yes, because we didn't want to lie to her face." As they left the parking lot he said, "You had to know she would be floored if she found out by surprise." He noticed Grissom was driving faster than normal and commented, "It's not like you to speed. Where are we going?"

"Where did you go after you left the McGuire residence?"

"And you accuse me of being manic?" He gave a light laugh. "You keep changing the topic. I stopped to grab something to eat and then I realized I had put in twelve and the county requires me to take an hour...not that we necessarily follow that rule but, I really wanted to see Tawny, so I went home to chill. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely." Grissom breathed deep. "Did you have a nice time…that is until Sara arrived?"

"A great time." Trying to reign in his enthusiasm he said, "You really want to hear about this when you're in the middle of something with Sara?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Completely baffled by the Master's erratic behavior he went on with his story. "Between you and me…I was about thirty seconds away from proposing to Tawny when Sara knocked on the door. Although, now that I'm out of the heat of the moment, I'm glad it didn't happen because I didn't have ring and I really want it to be special. Anyway…something great did come out of it, I think she finally realizes it's a given. Now she'll relax. I told her forever, I meant it and she believes me."

Grissom pulled into the emergency entrance of Desert Springs Hospital and pulled right up to the door. "Greg…"

"What are we doing here?"

"It's a really tough case. Promise me you'll hold it together?"

"Sure, I mean I'll do my best. Is it worse than this morning's?" When he saw the emotion building on his coworkers face his heart skipped a beat. "Gris? Are you okay?"

"Sara phoned me at the lab."

Greg couldn't believe they were changing the conversation back to personal. "Good news or…"

"She called because she had to rush Tawny here. Apparently, after you left the apartment, she went to the bathroom and discovered she was bleeding."

Without a word, he yanked on the door handle and bolted.

"Greg!" Grissom rushed out to follow him. "Sara _specifically _said you need to stay calm because Tawny is hysterical."

The plea didn't stop him.

Racing through the automatic doors Greg flew to the triage desk. "Greg Sanders here for Tawny Cooper."

"One moment."

His heart pounding in his chest he paced the floor. "Can you tell me where she is, please?" Rushing his fingers through his hair he begged, "Just tell me which way to go, please. _Please!_"

The grey-haired lady politely requested, "Keep your voice down, Sir. I promise I'll get someone to bring you right back."

"Greg!" Grissom caught up. "You need to calm down."

Whirling around he snapped, "I'm trying, dammit!"

"Then try harder!" Grissom barked in a paternal tone. "Right now! Do the breathing exercise you learned in Anger Management."

Stunned from the force of the command, he instantly did as instructed.

After watching Greg take a few deep breaths he soothed, "Much better. You can do this. I know you can." Grissom placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just think of it as your responsibility to stay calm for her. I'll be out here if you need anything."

Robotically he responded, "Got it. Thank you."

A young African American nurse wearing a smock covered in pastel smiley faces hurried over. "Are you Greg?"

He nodded while continuing the breathing exercise.

"Right this way." She pressed the automatic door opener to gain access into the ER. "We're all counting on you to get her to calm down, but you don't look so good yourself."

When they turned the corner, he heard her crying out. After breathing even deeper he answered the nurse, "Don't worry about me, I'll hold it together."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It – Part 10 

**Teaser:** In times of crisis, it takesa little heart to make things right.

**Posting:** Wednesday evening 5/18

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Maggs


	10. Losing It Part 10

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 81: Losing It – Part 10**

**Desert Springs Hospital  
****ER Waiting Room  
****10:17 p.m. **

His job done, Grissom took a seat in the corner of the cheerily decorated ER waiting room. With tired eyes and an overtaxed mind he surveyed the area. Although the colors in the room were sunny, everyone sitting in it looked the opposite and he knew he blended.

Looking back, the entire day was one dose of tension after the other. The latest being the unexpected phone call from Sara…

_With all personal thoughts blocked, Grissom sat at his desk concentrating on Brittany Thomas' autopsy report while sipping a fresh cup of coffee. He was so focused, that when his cellphone rang he absently answered, "Grissom," without even checking the caller ID. _

"_Gil!" Sara frantically shouted into the phone. _

_Ripping off his eyeglasses he shouted back, "Sara! What's wrong? Who's screaming?" Jumping up from behind his desk he grabbed his keys ready to meet here wherever she was. _

"_It's Tawny. I need you to find Greg, but don't tell him anything in the lab. Wait…hold on." _

_With the phone pressed to his ear he listened while rushing out of his office to track down Greg. _

_I don't want to lose the baby! Help me! I need Greg!_

_Tawny, please calm down._

_This can't be happening! There's so much blood! There's blood running down my legs!_

_Listen to me. Getting hysterical won't help the baby. _

_Help me, Sara. Please help me. I need to save the baby._

_I'm trying to help. I don't have a car. I need your keys. Where are your keys?_

_I…I can't think right now. Um…um…_

_Are they on a hook? In a drawer? In your purse?_

_My purse! On the kitchen counter. I'm shaking._

_Wait here and I'll get you a blanket from the bedroom._

_Wrap this around you, Tawny_

_I'm so scared._

_Take my hand._

_I have blood on my hands._

_I don't care. Take my hand and come with me. We're going to the ER._

_I'm really scared._

_I'm right here. I've got you._

_What if I lose everything Sara? You know what it's like to lose everything. I don't want to be the loser again. I'm always losing. When do I get to win?_

_You won't lose everything. Greg's not going anywhere and neither am I._

_Grissom lowered the phone when he saw Warrick. "Have you seen, Greg?" _

_Glancing up from his file he answered, "He was heading to Trace a few minutes ago. His hair is extra messed up tonight. You won't be able to miss him. Hey, Gris I need to ask you something about …" _

"_Not now, please." When he returned the phone to his ear he heard Sara's voice. _

"_Gil! Are you there?" _

"_I'm here. Sorry, I was asking Warrick where Greg is. He should be in Trace." He hurried down the hall. "I'm a minute away." _

"_Remember what Brass did to get you to the hospital after Dales Trail?" _

"_Yes." He momentarily shivered from the memory. _

"_Do the same thing Brass did for you for Greg. I'm on my way to Desert Springs. Hurry!" _

"_I will." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Sara…I love you." _

"_I love you too." _

Sitting in the waiting room he closed his eyes and thought of the only good memory he had of the day.

"_Why do you get to be a smart ass, but not me?" _

_Staring at him like he couldn't figure out two plus two Sara replied, "Because I'm most likely gestating your progeny." _

"_Ahh…" He grabbed his birthday watch from the dresser. "So I'll be living this way for nine months." _

_Coming up from behind she slipped her arms around his waist and whispered in his ear, "And then I'll be able to say…I gave birth to your progeny. That should carry me for oh…a decade or two. Dontcha think?" _

"_Depends on the number of hours you spend in labor." _

_Her hands went to his shoulders and she gave a big squeeze. _

"_Damn!" The muscle pain was excruciating. _

"_Yeah…you can't handle that, but I'll be pushing the equivalent of a bowling ball out of my body." Giving one more squeeze she taunted, "Still not sure of your answer." _

"_At least two decades." _

Sara…she was the good part of the day…of his life. The thing with Heather and Brass seemed ridiculous compared to the serious issue Greg and Tawny were facing…one he and Sara could just as easily be faced with one day. Life is fragile. Brittany Thomas' parents found that out that morning. Life is precious. Greg and Tawny were learning that right now.

Grissom lowered his head in his hands. Having wasted so many years of his life already the thought that he had just spent two hours mentally apart from Sara saddened him.

Once again Heather's question vibrated in his head. _Tell me…were you merely suspicious that your wife might react badly if she found out you didn't tell her the truth, or did you know without question that she'd feel hurt and betrayed? _The answer was a resounding yes. _And yet you chose to keep the truth from her. _Again the answer was yes. _Why? _I was protecting her and helping Jim. It just wasn't the right time.

Then he recalled another scene from the traumatic day.

"_Sara!" _

_When she heard his voice she stopped in her tracks. "It would have been better if you were honest with me instead of avoiding the issue." _

"_You saw the dress?"  
_

"_Look…I appreciate the concern, but I'm a big girl and a professional on the job. I don't need to be sheltered. You know how I feel about shelters. Shelters leave you unprepared for the real world and you end up blindsided and shocked. That's what happened to me in there." _

"_I'm sorry."_

That's when he realized the real issue wasn't Heather and Brass. It was the feeling the scenario stirred within her.

Another memory assaulted him. Sara telling him about Brian Anderson's betrayal…

"_I'm ticked that they were deceptive and showed total disregard for my feelings but I wasn't in love with him if that's what you're thinking. They were laughing at me behind my back and then when I walked in on them that day they laughed in my face. It hurt. It still does. You heard them…they're still laughing."_

That's when he understood why she was especially hurt over his laughing about Brass's mystery lady in front of her at the party. _It hurt. It still does. You heard them…they're still laughing._

Another exchange from the opera house flickered in his mind…

"_You see one opera and now you're trying to write your own? Why do you need to play this game, Sara? What's really going on here?" _

"_I'm wearing this beautiful dress and I have a wonderful man who loves me on my arm and for the first time I have a chance not to be the big loser in front of the fun pretty girl." _

Tonight, when she was the only one of the four not in on the 'joke', she had to feel like the big loser in front of the fun pretty girl. Heather was another Miranda to Sara. Someone who always had the upper hand and didn't have qualms flaunting it.

On the surface it would be easy to say Sara had reacted out of jealousy or self-centeredness, but anyone who knew her…especially her husband, who knew her darkest secrets, and deepest vulnerabilities knew it was so much more.

Now it was Tawny's desperate words that rang in his head…_ What if I lose everything Sara? You know what it's like to lose everything. I don't want to be the loser again. I'm always losing. When do I get to win?_

**ER  
****10:19 p.m.**

As he approached curtain ten of the ER, Greg could hear Sara trying to calm Tawny…

"I'm so scared, Sara. I don't want to lose the baby and I don't want to lose, Greg."

"He loves you, Tawny. Everyone at the lab knows how much he loves you. He talks about you non-stop. He's crazy about you. You're not going to lose him. And you don't even know for sure you're going to lose the baby. You need to calm down and stay positive."

"Where is he!"

"I'm here!" Greg yelled before darting through the opening in the cotton wall to find Tawny clad in a hospital gown and sitting under a sheet. One glimpse at her anguish and his heart ached. "Sorry I took so long." He replayed Grissom's supportive words like a mantra… _You can do this. I know you can. Just think of it as your responsibility to stay calm for her._

"Greg…" Holding out her arms and whimpered, "I'm so scared."

Sara moved to the side, not sure if she should go or give them privacy. Then, after considering Greg and Tawny were both overemotional people and might need her help, she decided to stay.

Remembering Tawny's concerns, he tried to allay them as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Gently he brought her tear-soaked face his chest. "Sweetie, you need to calm down so they can examine you and get you and the baby some help." The intense tremble of her body fired his emotions and he struggled to keep them under control.

"I don't want to lose the baby." In between gulps of air and harsh sniffles she rambled her deepest fears. "If I lose the baby everything could end. We could end. The baby brought us together. Maybe it's not real between us. Maybe we just made it happen for the baby. If the baby disappears, maybe what we have will disappear. I don't want to lose the baby." Gripping him she sobbed, "I don't want to lose you. I love you, Greg. I need you."

Sara covered her mouth with her right hand when she felt her emotions catching up. The shock of the incident had thrust her into survival mode but now, listening to the despair and thinking about Gil and the baby they might have, she felt her cheeks flush as she fought back her tears.

Swallowing all his emotions with a deep breath, Greg peeled Tawny far enough away so she could see his face. "Look into my eyes." When she didn't look at him, he framed her face with his hands and forced her. "You know you can see everything in my eyes. Look into them."

Tears pouring down her cheeks she squeaked, "I can't stop shaking. I'm scared."

"Me too, but for the baby, not because I'm worried we'll lose our love for each other if things don't work out here." In a futile effort he attempted to dry her face with his shirt, but a new stream of tears dampened her cheeks immediately. Finally he thought of a way to center her. "Ask me how much I love you, Tawny." He forced a smile in the midst of dealing with his turmoil.

In a tiny voice she complied, "How much do you love me, Greg?"

"So much," He replied with conviction. "Ask me for how long."

After a choppy breath she managed it. "How long will you love me?"

"Forever." His thumbs acting like wiper blades, he swept away every tear raining down. "I never would have shared my darkest secret with you if I didn't plan on forever. And you know I was thirty seconds away from proposing before we got interrupted earlier." With conviction blanketing his voice he confirmed, "I said forever, and I meant it."

"No matter what happens…even…" She pleaded with her eyes.

"No matter what happens, Tawny." As his bravery faded, his voice changed to a whisper. "You say you need me and don't want to lose me, well guess what…I need you…and losing you is something I never want to do…_ever._ Do you understand?"

Lifting her hands to his face she nodded.

"I've been waiting my whole life for you, Tawny." His eyes were welling, but he held his tears in check. "I love you. My mom loves you. My dad thinks you're great. I know it's not official yet, but we're a family. My mom said the same thing on the phone earlier. That's why she asked you to call her Mom from now on, right? So please stop worrying, because you're loved unconditionally. _Nothing_ will change that. Do you believe me?"

Seeing only honesty and love in his eyes Tawny nodded. "I believe you." A new batch of tears flowed, this round fueled by overwhelming relief.

Bringing her to his chest he kissed the top of her head. "Now take some deep breaths with me for a minute and then we'll deal with this together. We'll get through it." When he felt her inhale he praised, "You got it…just like that."

After clearing the emotion from her throat, Sara placed a hand on Greg's shoulder and whispered, "I'll go tell the nurse you're ready for her."

Upon exiting the curtain, Sara looked for Nurse Juana Torres, a motherly Hispanic woman in her late forties wearing a peach nurse's smock, and when she saw her emerge from another curtain she walked over. "Tawny is calm now, so whenever you're ready."

"Excellent! Tell them I'll be right there." She made a beeline for the nurses' station.

"Nurse Torres…" Sara had a burning question so she followed her. "I read in one of my pregnancy books that about twenty percent of all women experience bleeding of some variety during pregnancy. So even though Tawny is bleeding, it doesn't necessarily mean she's miscarrying, right?"

"That's right." The nurse smiled at the tense woman and continued on her way.

After hurrying back to curtain ten, Sara announced her arrival without stepping inside. "The nurse will be here in a minute. Do you need me to stay here or can I sit at the end of the hall?"

"Come in for a sec," Tawny answered in a voice coarse from screaming.

"Okay." Sara slipped through the crack and saw Tawny lying on her back with Greg standing at her side holding her hand. "I hope you don't mind that I stayed before…I wasn't sure if you'd need me. I didn't know what to…I hope it's not awkward that I heard what…" Gripping her forhead she admitted, "Now I'm overtalking. I do that when I'm tense. Greg, you know I…you've seen me do this…I'm doing it again."

Tawny sniffled, "I just wanted to say thanks for getting me here so fast and being such a good friend."

"Ditto for me," Greg added. "And for calling Grissom at the lab so he could get me out of there without me freaking out. That's what you had Brass do after Dales Trail when you didn't want Grissom to flip out at work."

She nodded. "It worked then so I thought I'd give it another try."

"And hell no, I don't care what you heard, Sara," Greg assured her with a smile. "I trust you with my life every day. I certainly trust you not to blab my secrets."

"Right." She smiled at both of them while hoping everything would work out. "Try to stay positive, okay? I just confirmed with the nurse that bleeding happens in about 20 percent of pregnancies and everything can turn out fine." Pointing over her shoulder she advised, "I'll be at the end of the hall if you need me."

As she left her traumatized friends behind, Sara walked past the other nine curtained rooms, catching snippets of tense conversations.

_Can't they do anything to stop the pain?_

Pain was what she thought she felt a couple of hours ago when she found out she was the odd one out and her husband had been keeping a secret from her. Now she realized that wasn't pain. Irritation…yes. Frustration…definitely. Disappointment…absolutely. But not pain. Pain was what she heard in Tawny's voice when she screamed _I don't want to lose my baby_. Pain was what she had seen in Greg's eyes when he took one look at Tawny and realized he may not be able to fix this for her.

_It hurts a lot._

Hurt was something she knew first hand…and she knew there were two kinds. The first kind was intentionally inflicted. It was what she watched her father do to her mother. It was what vicious kids at school sought to do to her. It was what callous boyfriends inflicted when they thought only of themselves.

The second kind of hurt was accidental. It was what she had done to Gil when she tried desperately to keep him from finding his father in the living room. It was what he had done by keeping a secret to protect her.

_I love you._

Love was the cure for both pain and hurt. It was what she heard in Greg's voice when he spoke to Tawny pleading with her to trust him. It was what she saw in Tawny's eyes when she clung to the hope that this time she really could believe she wouldn't lose everything. And love was what she knew was in her husband's heart at all times…even when he said the wrong thing, or did the wrong thing. It was there in Tahoe the first time when he flew away. It was there in the living room when he lost control of his temper. It was there on the street tonight when he fell speechless from seeing the hurt in her eyes. It was always there.

**Curtain 10  
****10:37 p.m. **

"I love you, Tawny." Alone behind the curtain, Greg leaned over and smoothed his hand over her hair. Softly he queried, "Does it hurt?"

"No. I don't have any pain." With her hands over her uterus she shook her head. "That's why I was so shocked. Do you think it's a good sign it's not hurting?"

Just then Nurse Torres entered wheeling a small cart with a laptop on it. "You look much better, Tawny." While grabbing the blood pressure cuff she remarked to the young man in the room, "And you must be Greg."

"Yes." He held out his hand. "Greg Sanders. I'm the baby's father."

Returning the handshake she commented, "I'm Juana Torres. We heard a lot about you while we were waiting for you."

He gave Tawny's hand a squeeze. "Sorry I wasn't here from the beginning. I would have been home if I wasn't working a priority case."

"Sara told me you work for the Crime Lab. My husband is a cop. I know you guys had a busy day. That must be why we're having a quiet night." As the nurse engaged the automatic pressure cuff she began her speech. "Now that you're here, Greg…" Glancing down at her patient she winked. "And now that Tawny is calm…I'll start from the top."

With a vice grip on her significant other's hand, Tawny nodded and braced herself.

As Juana entered information in the laptop she relayed the standard information unemotionally. "These are the facts. Bleeding during pregnancy is common. It can mean nothing, in which case the baby is fine. It can be a sign of infection or a physical issue with the mother, in which case we treat the symptoms and more often than not the baby is fine. And sometimes it can be the start of a miscarriage."

Hearing the word made Greg wince and focus on the more optimistic scenarios.

"A threatened miscarriage before twenty weeks isn't something we try to stop**. If** we determine you are miscarrying, you will lose the baby. I'm not telling you this because I know it's going to happen, or because I'm uncaring and trying to scare you, I'm telling you now, so it can sink in. That way, **if** miscarriage ends up being the diagnosis, you will know exactly what to expect."

Greg nervously replied, "I can see where you're coming from. **If** that's the diagnosis we don't have to ask a million questions and waste time hoping because we'll know upfront there won't be anything you can do. So we can focus on accepting it."

"That's correct. But stay cautiously optimistic."

Tawny and Greg exchanged faint smiles and hand squeezes.

When Juana was finished typing in Tawny's vitals, she looked up and smiled. "Okay, now for the questions we couldn't get out of you before. How far along are you?"

Tawny fielded it fast. "About nine weeks. My due date is April 12th based on plugging in the conception date on this pregnancy website we found. We only slipped up once so we know the date it happened. Not that we're not happy it happened. We are! We want the baby."

"Gotcha." The nurse kept her eyes on her laptop. "Were you ever pregnant before? Had any miscarriages, terminations or births?"

"No."

"Any medical concerns? Past or present? Conditions, injuries, surgeries?"

Greg answered for her. "She had her appendix out when she was ten. She has a tiny scar."

Tawny glanced up, smiling that he remembered the detail from their first date…her asking about the burn scars on his back, and him asking about the one on her right side. "Nothing besides that surgery."

"Do you take any medication?"

"No."

Juana continued to run down her checklist. "Any pain in your abdomen? Like cramping as though you're getting your period. Or any back pain or pains shooting down your legs?"

"Nothing. I stood up to go to the bathroom and felt a little gush." Shuddering from the memory she lost the strength in her voice. "When I got there and pulled my shorts down…I saw blood."

"This next question is for both of you and pertains to your sexual histories. If you would prefer to answer individually in private let me know now." When they didn't protest she continued, "Any history of sexually transmitted diseases? Or potential concerns that have not been tested?"

"None," Greg answered immediately.

"Greg…" Tawny pulled him closer. "Can you sit with me?"

He glanced at the nurse and when she nodded, he took a seat on the bed. Knowing what was coming, he scooted Tawny close. "Better?"

"Much." She clutched him tighter and answered the question. "Um…almost three years ago I was raped. I got tested every month for two years and then every three months. Nothing has ever shown up."

It tore up Greg every time he thought about it. "That's plenty of time to answer none."

The nurse concurred. "I know this may bring back painful memories but, in the interest of the baby I need you to be strong and answer it. Did you sustain any injuries to your cervix, uterus or vaginal region during the assault?"

Noting Tawny was slipping, Greg took a deep breath and fielded it for her. "No, because it wasn't a vaginal assault." He placed a tender kiss on the top of Tawny's head.

"Understood," The nurse somberly replied as she entered in the information. "Now this next question usually makes the guys nervous. So, Greg, listen to what I'm saying very carefully."

"Uh…okay." He snuggled Tawny a little closer.

"I need to know if you had intercourse in the past week, how often and when was the last time?" Acknowledging Greg's immediate panic she stated, "At this early stage in the pregnancy, if it's a miscarriage, sex did** not **cause it, but if it's not a miscarriage, then sex could be the harmless explanation."

Tawny answered while she watched the blood drain from Greg's face. "About an hour and a half before the bleeding started. It was the first time in six days."

"What you describe it as vigorous intercourse with deep penetration?"

"Wait…" Panic rioting within him, Greg blurted, "I didn't mean to hurt her or the baby."

"Greg…" Nurse Torres used her tone to caution him. "That's why I told you to listen carefully. I said sex would** not** cause a miscarriage at this stage of pregnancy. However, due to the increased levels of pregnancy hormones, changes can occur that can make a woman more susceptible to bleeding during intercourse. That's all I'm looking for here. There's no blame."

Tawny answered, "Yes to both."

Greg massaged his forehead with his fingers while he beat himself up for…every dirty song lyric that he had selected to make their romp as frenetic as possible…for the zeal with which he had enjoyed the lustiness…and for every ardent move he had made that might have done this to her. "I'm really sorry."

"I swear you weren't hurting me, Greg." Tawny implored him to listen to her by tugging on his hand. "I would have told you if you were. And I think it was pretty obvious I was feeling great at the time. Please..."

Blowing out a breath, he mumbled, "It's just hard to hear I could be responsible for making you bleed. Especially after what I saw at work today and after talking about you getting assaulted."

The nurse handed him a cup of ice water. "The nicest guys take it the hardest. I saw it coming with you a mile away."

"Thanks." He accepted the water and gulped it down, wishing it had come with a valium.

"Okay." The nurse moved her cart to the side and donned a pair of latex gloves. "Nothing invasive…all I'm doing is lifting the sheet to evaluate if the discharge flow has changed and then I'll freshen you up. After that, we'll move you to our GYNO room for more privacy. There, the doctor will do a pelvic exam and a vaginal ultrasound."

Anxious to know how bad the situation really was, Greg slipped off the side of the bed to watch.

"Are you sure you can handle this?"

"I'm a CSI," Greg countered in the strongest voice he could muster. "I can handle anything." He stood a little taller. "It's my baby and I don't want to be in the dark."

"Very well."

Greg stood at the foot of the bed with his arms clamped firmly across his chest to remind himself to hold it together.

When the nurse lifted the sheet, Greg's eyes focused on the dried blood streaks running down Tawny's thighs and the stains on her hospital gown. His mind swirled as images, sounds and words bombarded him…the snap of a camera, the pool of blood between her legs, _she's approximately five years old,_ the stains on the dress, the snap of a camera_, Coccinellidae_, Nick's blood curdling scream, the smell of the morgue, _what caused the damage_, the snap of a camera,_ maybe he wanted to rape a doll,_ the dried blood on her tiny thighs, _with a body this small the damage from an adult can be..._

"Greg!" Tawny shrilled as she saw him clutch his head and bolt backwards through curtains. "Oh my god! How much blood is there? Is the baby dead!"

"No!" The nurse held Tawny back. "It's less than before, and there's no sign of tissue."

"Greg!" She screamed when she heard a crash from behind the curtain. "Is he okay?"

On the floor with an overturned cart of medical supplies scattered around him, Greg finally snapped out of it. "How…" Looking up he saw Sara rushing over.

"What happened!" She bent down and took him by the arm while hospital personnel swooped in to clean up the mess.

"The blood…" He paused to shove air in his lungs. "She has blood on her legs just like the little girl and I..." He let her get him to his feet. "I don't know why…"

"You're understandably stressed today, Greg." When she heard Tawny calling for him she brought him back through the curtain and announced. "Just a little work-related PTSD from a rough case. Everything's okay."

"Really sorry," He announced as he walked over and took Tawny's hand. "Didn't see that coming."

Juana decided it best to delay the rest of her plan. "I'll be back in five."

"Thanks again, Sara," Greg was still trying to shake off the fright as he clutched Tawny's hand. He decided to take his mind off it by switching gears. "Hey, Sara, I was wondering, do you think you could do me another favor?"

"Anything."

"Grissom is out in the ER waiting room. Would you mind giving him an update and letting him know that I've got it under control. "He rolled his eyes. "Well, except for those sixty seconds."

Knowing what Greg was doing she smiled. "Sure."

"And hey, Sara?" Sitting on the edge of the bed he cradled Tawny. "Don't you think life's too unpredictable to stay pissed for too long? Look at today for example…it started out normal and it's been non-stop drama since we showed up for work." Feeling powerless over his destiny at that moment he remarked, "One minute you're up and the next you're crashing. It's much better to have someone there to catch you when you crash, and since you never know when you're going to crash…"

"Don't stay apart too long." Sara nodded. "We'll be out there waiting for you to give us some good news."

**ER Waiting Room  
****11:09 p.m. **

His adrenaline rush dissipating, Grissom stood and walked to the back of the room to grab a cup of coffee from the courtesy table.

Having been there nearly an hour without a word from Greg or Sara he expected things were going badly. He was grateful Greg and Tawny had Sara with them. She had been a good friend to Greg since she helped him through the shock of finding out Tawny was pregnant. And tonight, when he heard his wife over the phone, he knew she was a good friend to Tawny as well. They couldn't ask for a better friend. Neither could he. She was loyal, dependable, trustworthy, compassionate, empathetic and patient…well, except when it came to getting pregnant. A smile found his lips as he thought of her unbridled enthusiasm. Then it disappeared when he realized how awful it must be to watch the nightmare Tawny and Greg were going through.

"Hi."

When he heard his wife's voice he spun around, spilling hot coffee on his fingers. "Ah."

"Careful." She grabbed a few napkins and handed them to him. "You're in the right place for an injury, but really, there's been enough stress for one day."

He placed the Styrofoam cup on the table. "Sara…" His eyes spoke all the words trapped inside.

"I know."

In a heartbeat their arms were around each other and the words _I'm sorry_ were simultaneously exchanged and then followed by _I love you_.

**En route to the ER Gynecology Room**

**11:22 p.m. **

Greg held Tawny's hand as the orderly, Saul, a white-haired sixty-seven year old who worked to keep busy, wheeled the stretcher through the bustling hall. "Just one more turn and we'll be there," The kindly man advised. "It will be nice and quiet too."

"I need to use the restroom," Tawny announced.

"You're in luck." Saul backed in the stretcher. "You've got a private bathroom in here."

Recalling the horror of finding the blood the last time she confessed, "Greg, I'm scared to go."

"No problem, I'll take you," He informed her. Then trying to cheer her up he teased, "I figure I'm due since you walk in on me peeing everyday. I just hope you don't get stage fright like I did the first few times." He felt compelled to tell Saul, "We live in a very small apartment with only one bathroom and the lock is broken. I never do it to her, but she does it to me all the time."

Saul commiserated, "I hear you, kid. My wife has interrupted hundreds of good magazine reads on the john over the last twenty-nine years."

Relishing the momentary escape from stress she joked along. "Since inhibited usually isn't used to describe me, I don't think stage fright will be an issue."

"Here we are." Saul locked the brake on the stretcher when he pulled it next to the bed and then snapped on a pair of gloves. "I'll take her left arm, you take the right. Once she's on her feet you take it from there."

When she stood, Tawny felt the floor move. "I'm a little dizzy."

"I've got you. It's fluctuation in your blood pressure from all the stress." Greg slipped his arm around her waist. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Saul removed the pad from the stretcher and was relieved to see much less blood. "There wasn't much on the pad," He whispered in Tawny's ear.

"I don't want to get my hopes up but, it seems to be going away." She held on for dear life.

"Best of luck to you." Saul released the brake on the stripped down stretcher. "Take care, kids."

"Thanks," Greg answered for both of them as he guided Tawny to the door. "I've never taken care of anyone when they weren't feeling well. I've always been on the receiving end." He shook his head. "I'm thirty years old, and my mommy is the only one who has nursed me back to health, and the only thing I've even tended to is a hamster. Do you know my mom actually flew out here when I had pneumonia two years ago? And I let her baby me! Can you imagine Nick having the sniffles and letting his mom fix him chicken soup? God, I'm pathetic."

At the bathroom door she was quick to remind him, "Just be happy your mom cares you're breathing. Mine doesn't."

Grimacing from the lingering taste of his foot in his mouth, he apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that."

Stepping into the bathroom she gripped the railing on the wall. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. I was just reminding you how lucky you are."

He helped her take a seat then leaned against the wall ready to catch her should she start to sway. "Is the bleeding still happening?"

"I feel a little, but not like before." She flashed a smile. "Maybe it really is going to be okay."

**ER Waiting Room  
****11:28 p.m. **

Sitting in chairs in the corner of the room full of tension, Sara and Gil nursed each other with their loving gazes while they worried about their friends and no longer about the strength of their marriage.

"How much longer do you think until we know something definitive?" Sara asked, her anxiety rising with each passing minute.

"I don't think it's been an unreasonable period of time." He glanced at his watch…the one Sara had given him for his birthday and as always was reminded of her loving words on the back of it. "It hasn't been that long."

"I want to know," Sara blurted.

"I suppose I could ask the nurse to…"

"No…" She took his hand. "I want to know if I'm pregnant. I don't want to wait and do the test at home. If I'm pregnant I want the happiness to start as soon as possible just in case…" Without warning her eyes filled. "Just in case it doesn't last."

"All this focus on trying to achieve the result, we never spoke of the possibility that we could get our dream and have to deal with losing it."

"No." She swatted away a tear. "After tonight that will always be in the back of my mind. But it's okay. You have to enjoy what you have while have it. That's what I'm going to do."

"Okay." He brought the back of her hand to his lips. "We won't wait."

**ER Gynecology Room 2  
****11:34 p.m. **

"I'm Doctor Beckman." The energetic forty-one year old woman looked studious with her dark brown hair cinched in a pony tail at the neck and sporting bookish glasses and gave off an air of confidence. "Sorry for the wait."

"I'm Greg Sanders and this is my girlfriend, Tawny Cooper." He held out his hand for her to shake. "We're glad you're here, and hoping you can give us some good news."

"Hi Tawny." The doctor extended her hand. "I've gone over your chart. Are you feeling any different since you answered the questions? Any new pain?"

"No."

While Juana prepped the equipment for the pelvic exam, Greg thanked god for the thousandth time that he was born male.

As the doctor reached over and grabbed a fresh pair of gloves she explained to her patient, "I'm just doing a quick pelvic exam to see what's going on. You know the drill. Scoot to the end…feet in the stirrups…you'll feel a little pressure….keep breathing." She flipped a switch to raise the bed while the patient complied.

Juana noticed Greg watching the scene as if he had been dropped on an alien planet. "Doc...just so you know, while I'm sure Greg knows what the drill entails, he has never watched the drill."

"Thanks for the warning." The doctor grabbed the speculum. "I'll watch my descriptives."

"I've got it together, Juana. That was a one time thing." He took hold of Tawny's hands while being eternally grateful that the doctor had draped a sheet so he couldn't see what was going on.

As the exam began, Tawny inhaled sharply and tensed.

"Are you okay!" Greg panicked. "Are you in pain?"

"That thing is always way too cold," Tawny explained while trying to relax and think positive.

Although only two minutes passed, it seemed like it was taking the doctor forever and Greg was getting increasingly paranoid.

As soon as the foreign object was removed, Tawny breathed a sigh of relief. "That's better."

Dr. Beckman stood and placed her hands on Tawny's blanketed and spread knees. "Okay…step two." She moved over to the ultrasound equipment. "Hit the lights, Juana."

The dark room, illuminated only by the glow of the monitor, suddenly made everything scarier, and the nervous couple clenched each other.

The doctor grabbed the condom-covered wand. "Another quick invasion. But not as cold."

Unable to see the screen, they watched for five minutes as the doctor went from typing with one hand to staring at the screen and back again.

"Lights." Dr. Beckman removed the probe and then her gloves. "Do you have her labs?"

"Not yet." Juana opened the door. "I'll go light a fire."

"What's wrong?" Greg felt a black cloud of doom forming above. "Is something wrong with her labs?"

"It's not a miscarriage," The doctor cheerily announced. "Everything will be fine."

Since they had been preparing for the worst, it took a second to switch gears, but when they did they made up for lost time by adding volume.

"Everything's okay!" Greg rejoiced. "Did you hear that!"

"We're still having a baby!" Tawny celebrated.

They embraced tight enough to threaten each other's air supply.

Having allotted as much time as the HMO czars running the hospital permitted her to waste on joy, Dr. Beckman cleared her throat ten seconds later. "Sorry, I know how relieved you are, but I have diagnostic information to relay."

"Sure…sorry." Greg sat on the bed next to Tawny pulling her close.

"Tawny, you have what we call cervical erosion. It sounds scary but it's harmless. It doesn't affect the functionality of the cervix. The condition is seen often during pregnancy because it is brought on by the increase in hormones."

"I've not heard of that." Greg prompted, "What is it exactly?"

The doctor provided the missing details. "Epithelial cells…I'm sure you know what those are since you're wearing a CSI ID."

Not realizing he still had it on he tucked it inside his t-shirt.

"The epithelial cells grow out of the cervix and form an inflamed red, velvet-like area over the top of it. With wear and tear, it can become choppy. Picture ground beef on top of a cervix."

"Yuck," Tawny remarked while looking at Greg. "Wow…I bet you're sorry you slept with me after hearing that detail."

"I was just getting to that part." The doctor chuckled. "The bleeding resulted when the inflamed cervix was repeatedly and forcefully struck during vigorous intercourse, which you said you had around eight this evening. The bloody discharge looked more significant because the blood was mixing with both of your fluids and…"

"So it is my fault!" Jumping off the bed Greg freaked, "Dammit! I just had to insist on changing the music and playing some nasty Prince."

Tawny covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Cut yourself some slack, Loverboy." The doctor flashed a reassuring smile. "You had no way of knowing this condition had developed since the last time you were intimate. And it wasn't your fault, it was a combination of circumstances…she's petite with a severely inflamed cervix. You have naturally good range and a healthy libido."

Tawny giggled. "She's complimenting you, Honey." No doubt in an effort to make him feel better. "And don't forget to factor in that I was really hormonal and cheering you on."

Mortified, Greg declared, "There's no way I'm having sex again until after this baby is born. No way!" He shook his head with conviction. "I'll just pretend I'm in college. I went two years without sex there, so seven months will be a drop in the bucket."

The doctor laughed at the typical guilt-ridden nice guy reaction. "While you do have to wait until she's healed, I wouldn't advise holding out that long because you'll have a significant drop in _alone time_ after the birth. Just stick to positions with shallow penetration and Tawny, you control the depth. If that's too limiting, I always tell my patients that pregnancy is a wonderful time to start thinking outside the traditional intercourse box. And active imagination comes in real handy around month eight."

Tawny assured the doc, "Don't worry, I'm a very creative person and Greg is a genius. We'll come up with something."

Feeling the walls of the room closing in, Greg begged, "Can we be done talking about this?"

"We're moving on right now." Typing her findings in the laptop the doctor remarked, "The ultrasound measurements resulted in an estimated due date of April 5th, which is earlier than the date of April 12th you stated."

"What!" Tawny's stomach flipped. "No! That's too early." In a panic she looked to Greg. "That means…" Her tears activated. "I can't believe this is happening. Ninety-nine percent in my favor and I **still **can't win."

The doctor looked on puzzled while Greg returned to Tawny's side and embraced her.

"Tawny…" He focused on her glassy drenched eyes. "Remember what I said…_so much_ and _forever_, no matter what happens, nothing changes that." When she nodded he smiled. "And it's my baby, because I was the one holding your hand when you found out you were pregnant, I'm the one holding your hand right now, and I'll be the one holding your hand when you give birth. It's** my **baby."

"I love you, Greg." Sniffling hard she threw her arms around him. "Thank you for that."

Closing his eyes he smoothed his hands over her back and dealt with the impending reality. "I love you too."

Now Dr. Beckman got the picture. "You should know there is an error rate of plus or minus seven days."

"Really!" They both shrieked while snapping their necks to look at the doctor. That's when they noticed Juana had returned at some point and the doctor was holding a piece of paper.

"Yes, and there's something else you should know." After setting down Tawny's lab results, she yanked on a new pair of gloves. "Juana, hit the lights again." Grabbing the ultrasound wand she prepped it. "One more quick invasion, Tawny and then I promise you're done for the night."

"Is something wrong with her lab work?" Greg asked in a wavy voice.

"Hang on for one second," The doctor calmly advised.

"I'm really starting to get nauseous from this rollercoaster ride." He gripped Tawny's clammy hand with his sweaty one.

Smiling, the doctor turned the equipment so the couple would have a view. "Watch the monitor."

Sitting on the bed in each other's arms, with the sides of their heads touching, they watched the fuzzy screen as the doctor manipulated the picture.

"To answer your question, Greg…" The doctor froze the frame. "Tawny's labs did show something irregular…a significantly elevated level of hCG for her gestation date."

Tawny whispered, "What does that mean, Greg?"

"Uh…" Mesmerized by the image on the screen and the terror rising within, he couldn't reply.

The doctor continued, "The due date presented earlier than anticipated because the measurements were larger than normal. Now that I've redone them, the new estimated due date is April 16th…plus or minus seven days." Having recorded all she needed, the doctor removed the ultrasound wand.

"Yes!" Tawny shrieked and shook Greg. "There's no doubt you're the daddy! Oh my god! I'm so relieved!" When he didn't emote she noticed he was in a zombie-like trance. "Why aren't you excited? It has to be your biological baby, because even if we subtract the seven days it's not in range for the other guy. And if you factor in that was only a one percent chance based on contraceptive malfunction, there's no way it could be his! It's your baby, Greg! Aren't you happy! Why aren't you happy!" When he still didn't respond she looked at the medical professionals for help. "Is he in shock?"

"Definitely!" Juana laughed as she moved around the bed to stand behind Greg. "Because he's figured out what your lab results indicate."

Grinning, the doctor formed a V with her index and middle fingers and placed the tips of them strategically on the screen. "Your hCG levels are elevated and the measurement was larger, because there are **two** viable babies in there…not one. Check out the tiny blips, Mom and Dad. Those are your babies' strong little heartbeats. Congratulations…twice."

"Oh my god!" Tawny screamed as her hands clutched her chest. "Twins! Two! Us! But we're scared shitless about having **one**!"

Juana caught Greg as he passed out and slipped off the edge of the bed. "I saw that coming." She sat him gently on the floor and worked on rousing him.

Panting from a mixture of shock and excitement, Tawny stared at the two tiny images, and although they looked like nothing more than blurs with a flicker of light in the center, she remarked in a dreamy voice, "They're beautiful."

"I'm printing out a few pictures for you," The doctor announced as she gathered her notes. "I'll be back in twenty to discharge you."

Tawny lost track of how many minutes passed as she gazed at the monitor.

"Look who's back." Juana guided Greg to the bed and plopped him down. "Think you can handle him while I get your discharge paperwork ready?"

"Yeah." Tawny slipped her arm around his waist. "I've got him…forever."

"I'll leave the lights off so you can spend some time with your kids and regroup before we hand you an enormous bill and kick you out."

Once they were alone he apologized, "Sorry…I…" Taking Tawny's hand he turned to the freeze-framed image on the screen. "Wow."

When she saw his eyes lock on the monitor she whispered, "Those are our babies, Honey." Tawny patted his hand. "**Your** babies."

As he stared at the picture with his head tilted ever so slightly, his mother's words echoed in his head… _Honey, once you can connect in a tangible way with the baby, the love will flow. You'll see. _"Those are my babies. Our babies."

"Yes." Joy had already replaced all the fear in her mind.

His whole face spread into a smile. "I have unprotected sex once in my entire life and I don't just get a girl pregnant, I make twins. Yeah…I can't wait to see my dad's face when I tell him that. What do you think about this approach? Hey, Dad…remember when you bought me a box of condoms and said the **most **irresponsible thing I could ever do is get a girl pregnant? Well guess what, I proved you wrong again! The **most** irresponsible thing would be to get her pregnant **with twins**! How do you like them apples!"

"I love it." Relieved to see Chuckles returning she started joking. "Yep…it appears you're gifted in areas besides music, chemistry and math."

"Right…apparently I'm also exceptionally talented at screwing and screwing up." He beamed as he continued to bond with the blurs on the screen. "I think the one on the left has my hair."

Tawny collapsed into a giggle against his chest. "Oh no…Chuckles Jr. We'll have to paint polka dots on his diapers."

Amazed by the feelings he was experiencing he sighed, "In less than eight months I'm gonna be a dad…twice over." Hearing the words out of his own mouth stunned him. "You're holding me, right? Because I'm feeling a little dizzy again."

"How about we lie down and you spoon me while we keep an eye on the kids?"

Breathing deep, he followed her down into position. "I've never been so excited and so terrified simultaneously."

"Me either." She snuggled tighter into his embrace. "Have you ever changed a diaper? Because I've never changed a diaper."

"Never in my life. You didn't babysit when you were a teen?"

"Nope…I had too many extracurricular activities to have a job. Plus, I never wanted anything to do with kids because I couldn't stand them. I never thought I'd have any." She teased, "Until you knocked me up."

"Twice! Because I'm an overachiever."

"That's my man."

After kissing her cheek he whispered, "So much and forever, Tawny."

Lying in a hospital bed staring at her future babies, while in the arms of a man who loved her unconditionally, Tawny felt at peace for the first time in eight years. "I love you too."

**ER Waiting Room  
****12:15 a.m. **

Sara's head was on her husband's shoulder when she heard him say, "Sara…wake up. Greg's on his way over and he looks happy."

"Huh?" When Gil grabbed her hand she rose to her feet.

"Greg…" Gil's eyes brimmed with hope. "Everything's okay?"

With a smile bright enough to challenge The Strip's brilliance at night, he informed them, "Not only is the baby okay, based on the due date, we know without question I'm the father."

"That's terrific!" Gil exclaimed loud enough to make him feel guilty for being so jubilant in a room full of stressed people.

Now fully awake, Sara threw her arms around Greg. "Congratulations! I was so worried for you guys."

"It was quite the rollercoaster ride. A hypercoaster…with dark tunnels and serious curves." Greg generously returned the hug. "I have one more thing to tell you…a big surprise." When he and Sara parted, he held out the ultrasound photo. "Gris, not including high card, what's the lowest hand you can have in poker?"

"A pair."

"NO!" Sara snatched the photo. "Unbelievable! Twins." Shaking her head she remarked in honor of Jim Brass, a man she was no longer pissed at, "Shocking!"

"Not really," Gil chuckled. "Greg has always been an overachiever." The curious scientist in him forced the next question. "So what caused the bleeding?"

"A condition called Cervical Erosion."

"Ah." Gil, the biologist, nodded knowingly. "And the inflammation was irritated by a certain activity engaged in while a certain CSI was taking a break at home."

"Yeah." Greg winced. "It's going to take me a while to get over the guilt."

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Gil teased, "You pulled a double. You deserved that hour break."

The threesome laughed until Sara excitedly inquired, "So when do we get to see Tawny?"

"Besides sharing my great news, that's the other reason I had to find you. She needs something to wear home because her shorts were trashed. Do you have a jumpsuit in the back of the Tahoe we could borrow?"

Gil handed over his keys. "See what you can find. It's parked in the ER lot."

"Oh and before I forget." Sara burrowed in her pocket. "Here are Tawny's keys."

"Thanks, Sara. Hang on to that picture for me. I'll be right back."

While Greg was on his way out the door, Sara and Gil embraced.

Glancing at his watch again Gil remarked, "It's after midnight. Let's hope this positive news is an indication that this day will be a hell of a lot better than the last one."

"Is that Gil Grissom?" A man's voice called from the middle of the room. "And his overly concerned wife, Sara?" Dr. Manny Ortiz, dressed not in scrubs but a trendy black suit and open azure blue shirt, strolled over grinning. "How are you? Gil…you look like you've dropped ten pounds. She must be riding you hard."

Gil held out his hand. "Nice to see you again, Manny. Eleven pounds actually. Your prescription was exactly as motivating as you said it would be."

"Hi, Dr. Ortiz," Sara warmly greeted. "Except for a piece of birthday cake, he hasn't faltered. And he even hired a personal trainer."

"That's fantastic."

Gil politely asked, "Have you transferred here from Boulder City Hospital?"

"Nah." He checked his watch. "I'm here to pick up my girlfriend. She's an on call nurse and her shift just ended. We're headin' to the Venetian for the next thirty-six hours." He winked. "I prescribed myself a little R& R. Actually…" Chuckling, he told them, "I met her…and a bunch of other women after that press conference on the cave in. I owe the two of you for **a lot** of good times."

Gil smiled. "Don't be.."

"I know how you can pay us back," Sara blurted.

"How's that?" Manny stuffed his hands in his pockets.

While staring at her husband she asked the doctor, "Does your girlfriend have lab connections here? Because there's a little blood test I need done ASAP."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 11 

**Teaser:** There will be screams in the middle of the night.

It's back to the casefile!

Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts!

Maggs


	11. Losing It Part 11

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 82: Losing It – Part 11**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123**)  
**Grissom's Tahoe  
1****:08 a.m. **

Holding the sealed envelope in her hands, Sara glanced over at Gil. "Let's just pull over and read the results."

"Not interested." He scolded, "I don't want to find out about our baby on Industrial. I want to find out at home in our bed just like we planned. Stop taunting me."

"Isn't the suspense killing you?" She waved the envelope in the air.

"No, but you are." A smirk crossed his lips. "Okay, let's pull into this parking lot."

"You're bluffing." She glanced out the window. "You don't want to find out if you're a daddy in the parking lot of a porn shop."

"I'll turn down 2nd street. There's a public library there. That's very appropriate for us."

They laughed at the scenario, their symmetrical levels of anticipation…and just to pass the time.

Realizing they still had a ten minute drive, Sara remarked, "We should have bought a house closer to this hospital."

"Speaking of houses." He turned the corner. "My dad left me a voicemail. He signed the contract and opened escrow on the Mobster Mansion today. If all goes well he moves in on September 7th. "

"That's good news."

"I thought it would kill a few seconds if I mentioned it."

"So, you admit you're tense." Sara grinned as she eyed him. "I could tell you about Strip Class to pass the time."

"Then I'll be tense and aroused." Laughing, he turned the next corner. "Was it fun even though…"

"Yes, it was a blast even with Jim's mystery lady there. Tawny is hilarious." Her eyes fell on the envelope again and she pushed herself toward distraction. "Remember when Greg was first dating Tawny and he couldn't stop talking about how great she was in bed? Well, after seeing her moves and her flexibility…let's just say, now I really understand why he couldn't stop talking."

"Does Greg ever stop talking?" He mused.

"I bet their kids will be early talkers…and double jointed. Are there DNA markers for those?" Her laughter slowed. "I'm so glad things worked out for them tonight. I really thought she was losing the baby…bab**ies**."

"Twins…" Gil shook his head. "Greg was rattled at the thought of having one. You should have seen him today. We were at this house for the case and the woman had four small children. One of the boys got hurt and she gave her baby girl to Greg to hold so she could help her son. Greg and the baby related as well as water and oil. Seriously, Sara, he's looked more comfortable handling sulfuric acid at the lab than he did that baby."

"Really?" Surprised she explained, "But Greg is such a kid sometimes, I always assumed he'd be a natural."

"Naturally uncomfortable." Then he had to brag. "So I took over for him, and when Mrs. McGuire returned she remarked that **I** was a natural." He beamed with pride. "She even asked how many children I have because I was so good at soothing the baby."

Frustration gripping her, Sara huffed, "Are you insane! Don't say things like that when I'm already fighting the urge to rip open this envelope and find out if you're going to be a daddy! Distract me! Go back to picking on Greg!"

Obliging his anxious wife Gil told her, "Mrs. McGuire thought the baby didn't like Greg because she was afraid of his hair." When he heard her lighthearted reaction he remarked, "Your turn…distract me."

Sara puckishly announced, "I have something that's guaranteed to consume your thoughts. When Tawny and I were in dance class, we had this little debate, and only you can answer the question for us."

"Okay." He kept his eyes on the road.

"If you happened upon Greg and Nick in bed, wearing granny flannel nightgowns and sucking each other's toes, and you had to pick someone in the room to suck your toes, who would you pick to suck yours?"

In a lost voice he replied, "Sorry, the granny flannel nightgowns are throwing me."

"More than the toe sucking action between the two of them!" She clenched the envelope as her nervous laughter continued.

"Yes." He joined in the laughter, grateful for the ridiculous time-wasting conversation. "I just can't imagine Greg wearing flannel."

"But you can picture him wanting to suck Nick's toes?"

"Not since he got Tawny pregnant."

She laughed harder.

Always one to enjoy a puzzle, Gil prodded, "Is there anyone else in the room from whom I can select? Are they in a hotel? The Paris maybe? Does a French Maid walk in? Yes, I believe she does." He wiggled his brows. "I pick her."

"Nice thinking outside the box."

"Thank you. But I doubt it would work out."

"Because your toes couldn't cheat on me?"

"No, because the French Maid would take one look at Nick and Greg, and the flurry of flannel, and run from the room screaming."

"Five minutes."

He snickered. "**However**, when the guests in the next room hear the maid's horrific screams they call 911. That's when the hot CSI babe arrives. Her name is Sara."

"Won't work." She laughed harder. "Like the French Maid, I'd be so disturbed by the sight I'd run screaming from the room."

"Ah…" He spoke in a professorial tone. "But I learned that lesson the first time, so I was waiting for you at the door."

"I love your mind."

"And my mind loves you."

**Greg's Apartment**

**1:15 a.m. **

After putting her borrowed CSI jumpsuit in the hamper, Tawny pulled on the soft lavender Ralph Lauren terry robe Mrs. Sanders had bought her when they went shopping. Although the last four hours had been exhausting, she was so pumped from the fantastic news she couldn't imagine falling asleep soon.

Incredibly jazzed from the night's surprising turn of events, Greg bounded into the room. "Okay…the bathroom is cleaned up and the tub is filled with hot water and bubbles." When he first saw the blood spatter around the toilet he had no doubt she must have been hysterical earlier. "I'm going to run the trash bag out to the dumpster. Do you need anything from the Mini Mart around the corner?" His smile lit the room. "Ice Cream? Pickles? I'm grabbing a cigar…make that two."

"Look who's in _I'm Gonna Be a Daddy_ overdrive!" Giddy from his excitement, she pecked his cheek. "Thank you. But all I need is a nice soak to get this nasty hospital smell off me." On her way to the bathroom she said, "Hey, you never told me how much the medical bill was." Since she didn't have insurance and Greg's policy didn't provide domestic partner coverage, they were stuck paying it in full.

"I'll wait till you're sitting down in the tub so you don't pass out and hit your head on the sparkling clean toilet." He took her robe as she shook it off her shoulders and then holding her arm he helped her into the steaming water. "Good thing we won all that money at the casino."

Once settled under the blanket of bubbles she sighed. "Just what I needed."

Greg sat on the closed toilet. "The year the Civil War ended."

"Huh?"

"1865…dollars." Unable to be unhappy about even a large unplanned medical expense on such a frabjous night, he quipped, "Definitely the most I ever paid for sex."

Giggling, she had to ask, "Exactly how many times did you pay for sex, Sweetie?"

"I'll be taking out the trash and heading to the Mini Mart." After leaning down to snatch a kiss, he fled the bathroom to the sound of Tawny screaming…_I'd pay at least two grand for an hour with you, Loverboy!_

Before walking out the door he grabbed his cellphone and the stuffed white trash bag. Once he was outside the door he placed his first call.

"Can't sleep?" Sofia answered. "You know, there are 900 numbers you can call when you need help relaxing."

"I had them blocked by my cellular provider after running up a five thousand dollar bill last year." Chuckling, he headed across the parking lot towards the overflowing dumpster. "An hour ago I was at the ER with Tawny because we thought she was losing the baby. Everything's fine now, but it got the adrenaline pumping."

"Wow…that had to be scary. I'm glad everything is okay."

"Thanks." He tossed the bag. "Hey, before I had to rush out of the lab to go to the ER, I left some stuff for Hodges to process. Paint samples and wood samples from the dollhouse builder. I need to compare them to the report on the paint and wood from the dollhouse, but I can't leave Tawny to come in."

"I'll handle it."

"Thanks, Sofia. Now I'll be able to impress Mr. Stokes with my dependability and responsibility when I have my work complete even after handling a personal crisis all night."

"Hey, why not just kiss his feet while you're at it? I'm sure the Power Junkie would love that."

"No thanks, I've unfortunately been treated to his foot aroma in the locker room. I'll leave that delightful task to his fiancée."

"Oh, I'm sure she's already real good at it. I'm sure you've met her, tell me…is she the most passive woman on the planet? I'd love to meet her and snap her out of whatever spell she's under. Maybe bestow a little feminist sensibility on her."

"I'd pay to watch that!" Baffled, Greg asked, "Hey, why do you like me so much, and loathe Nick?"

"I have very compelling reasons for both, neither of which I'm sharing with you. Good night, Big Daddy!"

When he heard the click, he stared at the phone. "Way to pique my curiosity."

**The Grissom's  
****1:21 a.m. **

Sara raced through the front door holding the envelope above her head like a beacon. "Right this way!"

Gil shut the door and tossed his keys on the entry table. "I'll be there in ten," He joked with a straight face. "I need to check in with the office." Suffocated by the weight of her glare he changed his tune. "I meant…coming, Honey!"

Once inside their room, they took a seat on the edge of the bed and a moment to breathe.

"Sara…"

"I know that tone." She stared at the envelope.

He felt obligated to set the stage. "If it's not the result we want…"

"We'll try again." Peeling her eyes off the white rectangle in her hand, she reassured him with a smile. "I'll be disappointed, but not hopeless. Don't worry."

"I love you." Taking her hand he brought it to his lips. "Ready?"

"I can't." Her hands shaking she passed him the envelope. "You open it."

Taking it he said, "I don't want to know before you."

"Open it and slide it out and we'll look at it together." Her stomach knotted. "As quick as you can."

A tense silence encased the room and the only sound was the tear of the envelope's seal.

With two fingers, Gil gingerly removed the folded piece of white paper.

Breathing in shallow gasps, Sara looped her arms around her husband's waist and rested her head on his shoulder to watch him unfold the document.

In unison their eyes focused on the writing.

Choking back a cry, Sara burrowed into Gil's chest.

"Sara…" The page slipped from his fingers as he rushed to embrace her.

"I can't…"

When the paper hit the floor it landed face up, showcasing the words written in black marker across the lab results which indicated a very solid 10 ml hCG…

_Congratulations, Gil and Sara  
__Gil, now you have 2 good reasons to stay healthy!  
__Best of luck and keep in touch,  
__Manny _

"We're having a baby," She sniffled as she glanced up to catch her husband's eye.

"Even though I was certain it had worked this month…I'm stunned." Swallowing hard he cupped his wife's tear streaked face. "It's really happening."

"Flu sex worked," She joked in a tense reaction to the fear and excitement gripping her.

"Well, it was very hot sex." Her jubilance overwhelmed him while he succumbed to his own.

"Because of my raging fever!" The shock wearing off she yelled, "It's really happening! I can't believe it! We're really going to have a baby!"

"Yes!"

"Suddenly I'm terrified," She confessed in a trembling voice.

"Suddenly I'm calm," He admitted in a confident tone. "Probably because I know I won't be forced to have flu sex again."

"How nostalgic…we're out of sync." One after the other tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm..." She fell silent and let her expression do the talking.

Hypnotized by her tears of joy, Gil whispered, "Thank you for giving me what I never knew I wanted so badly…a life and a family. I love you, Sara." And then he joined her in quiet celebration, holding her tight and closing his eyes.

**Greg's Apartment Complex  
****1:42 a.m. **

Walking back from the mini-mart with a bag of snacks to feed his empty stomach, Greg punched in the next number. After four rings he finally heard her groggy voice.

"Is everything okay, Greg? What's wrong?"

"Sorry to wake you, Mom. Can you talk on the sly or did Dad wake up?"

"Wait…"

He knew exactly what she was doing, slipping out of bed and padding into the great room to sit in her favorite chair.

"You know an earthquake doesn't stir your father unless it breaks six point five on the Richter. Are you feeling down again, Sweetheart?"

"Just the opposite." He noticed a couple strolling up the walk and waited for them to pass. "Now don't panic when I tell you the first part."

"Too late. Everyone knows when you say don't panic, it's the first thing the person does."

"Okay then, I'll just spit it out. Tawny had some bleeding earlier tonight BUT it turned out to have nothing to do with the pregnancy and everything's fine. She's fine. I'm fine. We're all fine."

"Oh thank god."

With a glint in his eye he told her the next part. "However, while we were in the ER they did an ultrasound and based on the due date, even taking into account the potential seven day margin of error, I'm without question the father."

"Oh, Greg…I'm so happy for you, Honey." She chuckled sweetly. "You must have been ecstatic when you found out at the hospital."

"Actually, I passed out cold at one point. Hey, do you have a pillow handy to muffle your screams?" He chomped at the bit while he egged her on. "Because there's more baby news."

"There's more?"

"Literally!" He started laughing.

"You don't mean…"

"You can teach them a duet." He wished he could see her face, but knew there was no way he could wait another ten days to tell her. "Twins! Do I know how to have reckless sex and get a girl pregnant or what!"

"You can't be…"

Greg heard the muffled screams. "I knew you'd be psyched!" He shouted into the phone.

When she finally recovered she snapped, "I should be twice as pissed!"

"Yeah, but instead you're twice as pumped." He knew she was grinning from ear to ear. "You're already imagining shopping in twos."

"I'm sitting here in the dark grinning like a fool. Two grandbabies! Now I know I'll need that second home in Vegas." A choppy breath preceded her next words. "I lost two babies, I almost lost you, then I saved you, and now you're having two babies. Maybe this is all pre-destined. Maybe that's why your Grandma Enid was so sure you'd get a stripper pregnant if you moved to Vegas!"

"Mom…you can call the Psychic Hotline and flesh out your theory after you're done talking to me, but right now, I need you to put down your crystals and listen up." Anxious, he said, "I need you to do something for me…reserve a tee time, for the Sunday I'm there. I figure I'll golf with Dad to put him in his happy place, and then I'll take him out for drinks and drop the bomb…bomb**s** now."

"One problem."

"What's that?"

"You don't golf."

"No…I've not golfed with Dad, or in front of dad. But I've golfed on the sly. I took lessons so I could impress this girl in college. I stink, but at least I know what I'm supposed to be doing and know all the terminology."

"Okay then." She sighed. "Just take him away from the club for drinks in case he gets…you know how he gets sometimes. And don't wear asinine clothes on the club's course! And tame your hair that day."

"Got it." He glanced at his watch. "Now there's one other plan I need your help with, something **very **important. Actually it's not really a plan, but more of a **proposal..."**

**The Blakes  
****1:51 a.m. **

As she sat at the kitchen table surrounded by hefty law books, overstuffed files and her powered up laptop, Carrie couldn't have been more content and relaxed. Not even when it was nearly two a.m. after an exhausting day, and she was hopelessly behind in her work.

Hours previously she had expertly dissolved her man's tension by playing a song from the heart, giving him a therapeutic massage, and then providing support while he oozed some of that vulnerability she loved so much. Then, feeling confident that she had done a phenomenal job, she relaxed against the cotton sheets and reaped the rewards of her efforts…the affection in Nick's deep brown eyes, the charm of his sweeping smile, and the gratitude lacing his thoughtful words. And it only got better from there. In the candlelit guestroom she…savored his tender touch as he roamed her body with his hands, enjoyed his sweet kiss when his lips repeatedly caressed mouth and flesh, and melted from the gentle intensity of his love making, which he delighted with for nearly an hour.

When she brought a fourth homemade chocolate chip cookie to her mouth, she bit it with her grin and then immediately felt guilty for being so happy while working a tragic case. Realizing her milk glass was empty, she stood to fill it. That's when she saw it…an image on the other side of the kitchen window…a guy's face pressed against the glass, leering at her. "NICK!" She screamed as she lunged for the phone on the counter. "NICK!" The guest room was just beyond the kitchen so she knew he would hear.

With her index finger she jammed in the three numbers 9-1-1.

The female operator answered on the second ring. "911 what's your emergency?"

Carrie replied with an answer that would get the quickest response. "I need officer backup for Criminalist Nick Stokes. 1729 Firebird Lane."

Nick flew into the kitchen, shirtless and zipping his jeans. "What's wrong!"

"Out back!" She pointed while reminding herself to breathe. "There was a guy staring at me through the window."

The operator prompted, "Ma'am is Mr. Stokes in pursuit?"

Just then she saw Nick step into his shoes, throw open the back door and rush outside. "Nick!" She raced to the open door. "Wait for backup! You don't have your…dammit!" She slammed the door. "Yes, and he's unarmed."

The house alarm engaged.

"Shit!" Carrie knew the whole house would wake up and the kids would be terrified.

The operator calmly asked, "Can you tell me where Mr. Stokes is now?"

"No!" Carrie yelled as she locked the back door so the perp wouldn't get inside if he had been hiding. Which also meant Nick couldn't get back in. Then she grabbed a knife from Wendy's block and hurried toward the other end of the house. "Mr. Stokes went out the back door of the house and then I don't know in which direction."

"Carrie!" Wendy screamed as she clutched Ashley in her right arm and held McKenna's hand. "What's going on! Why do you have a knife?"

"Mommy, make the bad noise stop!" McKenna shrilled as she covered her ears.

Sean ran out from his room wearing only his boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. "Aunt Carrie, what's wrong!" He saw the knife in her hands. "Where's Nick?"

"There was a guy in the window!" She shouted over the blaring alarm while pressing the cellphone to her ear. "Nick's out there and the cops are on the way. Wendy! Shut down the alarm! Sean, over here with me. Stay in the hall where there aren't any windows."

The operator informed her caller, "Four patrol cars are en route right now. You should be hearing the first one."

"I hear it," She confirmed. "I'm hanging up now." After clicking off the phone she snapped, "Damn it, Wendy! Why wouldn't you let Nick bring his gun in the house! He's out there unarmed!"

After disengaging the alarm by punching in the code on the panel in the hall, she barked, "Because I have four children in this house, and more often than not, guns kill the wrong people! That's why!"

"He's LVPD, he's not reckless! He was here to **protect** your kids! What, did you think he was going to leave his gun on the coffee table! You bring your kids to our apartment when you need us to watch them, why can they be in the place with a gun there, but not here!"

"Stop fighting!" Sean screamed even though the alarm was off. "You're scaring McKenna!" Clutching his little sister, he soothed, "It's okay. They're not mad at each other."

**Warrick's Tahoe  
****1:59 a.m. **

Returning from the field, Sofia and Warrick heard the 443 come over the scanner citing Nick as the officer needing backup.

Before Warrick could instruct her, Sofia had the address in the GPS. "Take the next left."

"Thanks." He stepped on the gas, concerned for his friend, who already had a tense day. "He's supposed to be on twelve hours of mandated rest."

Sensing Warrick ready a release, she joked, "Knowing Stokes, some little old granny was double parked and he called it in. Then she got pissed and smacked him with her cane. He called for backup, because he's afraid of assertive women."

"Appreciated." Warrick almost cracked a smile and then took the left turn as directed. "Especially since I know there's no love flowin' between you and Nicky."

"Yeah well…" She shrugged. "He's still part of the lab so I feel obligated to not want him injured...unless it's by me."

Now Warrick cracked a grin. "He never told me the details, but I didn't know it was** that** bad."

"Seriously?" Surprise dominated her voice. "I figured you got the whole story with embellishment." She pointed. "Next right."

"Nope…" He shook his head. "He wouldn't talk about it…which was out of character. I figured it was because we all worked together...don't kiss one co-worker and tell another co-worker."

"Interesting." She sat back a little easier. "Suddenly I feel a little more comfortable with our working relationship."

"That's good, because Catherine can't stand working with you, so we'll be spending a lot of quality time together."

**The Grissoms'**

**2:01 a.m**.

"Still tense?" Gil whispered while he massaged Sara's bare shoulders as she lay in bed sporting only her tiny gym shorts.

"A bit." Resting on her pillow she mused, "Wow…I'm already loving this _I'm Carrying Your Progeny_ pampering thing."

"Another thirty-seven weeks to go," He whispered as he rubbed in the vanilla-scented oil.

"Lower."

He responded by gliding his hands over her back.

"Lower still…hmm…lower." When he reached the rim of her black shorts she purred, "Those are in the way."

He smirked, "I love your mind."

"And my mind loves you." Releasing a dreamy sigh she remarked, "I have a feeling my body will love you in the near future too."

**The Blakes **

**2:05 a.m. **

Once she was convinced there was adequate police protection formed outside, Carrie returned the knife to its place on the block and threw on her gym clothes, which she had worn over.

Now, sitting in the windowless hallway with Wendy, who was cradling Ashley, and Sean who was holding McKenna, only question was on Carrie's mind…is Nick safe? "I'm sorry for screaming at you, Wendy." The apology was in a tiny voice. "I'm just scared about Nicky being out there without his firearm."

"I should have realized that before yelling." She took her sister-in-law's hand. "I'm sorry too. And I'm sure Nick is fine. Remember, he's trained in weaponless defense."

"Yeah…" She kept her eyes on the ceiling. "But it doesn't help much when you're staring down the barrel of a Glock."

Wendy turned to Sean. "There aren't any windows in the bathroom. Take McKenna and read her a story from her stack of books she keeps in there."

"Let's go," He tugged his sister to her feet and led the way.

Once they were alone with just the sleeping baby, Wendy encouraged her panicky sister-in-law. "Come on now! You're never a pessimist, Carrie. You're a survivor. It's not like you to submit to doom and gloom." Then Wendy realized Carrie was trying not to cry. She couldn't remember the last time she saw her shed a tear. "Oh, Honey…"

"I never had anyone to lose before now." Saying it out loud released the tears that had been building. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, Wendy. We're soulmates. I can't imagine life without him." With the back of her shaky left hand he brushed away her tears and suddenly her eyes focused on the wet diamond sparkling on her ring finger. "Tonight I played him the song I picked for him at the wedding. The words, they're all true…._I found all I've waited for, and I could not ask for more_. I **finally** feel safe."

Shifting Ashley all the way to her right arm, Wendy draped her left around Carrie's shoulders so she could pull her close.

Carrie's voice filled with guilt. "I wish I didn't yell his name. I should have just called 911 and let them handle it. I forgot he didn't have his firearm. And by the time I remembered, there was no stopping him. If anything happens to him…" Trying to imprison her sobs she clamped her lips tight. "…it will be my fault."

In a whisper she gave her permission, "Let it out, Sweetie."

Clinging to Wendy she released the emotion pent up inside her, emotion which extended beyond the current situation.

"There you go." Wendy stroked her hair. "It's tough to be tough all the time. I know…I did it for years. And I know exactly what you're thinking. After feeling so bad for so long, you finally have everything you ever wanted. That's when you panic. Because you start thinking a girl like you won't get to keep it because happiness is something that happens for other people."

Meeting Wendy's gaze, Carrie was grateful she understood. "Exactly."

Suddenly McKenna came running out of the bathroom.

"Sorry!" Sean chased after her. "She got bored."

Staring at her aunt, McKenna asked, "Why is she crying, Mommy? Did Uncle Nicky run away?"

"No, Angel, he just had to go to work, and Aunt Carrie misses him like I miss your Daddy when he's away on business."

Sean thought, _which is all the time!_ "Don't worry, Aunt Carrie. Nick's been getting out of tight spots his whole life, remember? That's how he knows about the knots, remember? This is nothing."

"Thanks, Sean." Carrie forced a smile as she swiped her tears. "You're a good man to have around in a crisis." Patting her lap she waited for McKenna to take a seat.

"How about we talk about wedding plans?" Wendy hoped it would stir Carrie's optimism. "Because we all know you **love** talking about the wedding."

"Yay!" McKenna clapped. "When can I visit my dress at the store again?"

Carrie found the strength to give a light laugh. "We're going on Saturday, Sweetie. You can visit it then. You're going to look so beautiful walking down the aisle sprinkling pretty peach rose petals."

Wendy looked at her sister-in-law. "I thought you wanted pink flowers because they looked nice with the teal?"

"Oh…Nick and I decided to change the colors tonight." Now a genuine smile exploded on her face. "He decided he didn't like the teal." Wrapping her arms around the little girl she oozed some optimism. "And McKenna, you get to have a crown made out of roses. I can picture it now." Closing her eyes she hugged her tighter. "The day is perfect."

**Greg's Apartment  
****2:10 a.m. **

"Perfect," Tawny sighed as Greg secured the ultrasound photo on the fridge with a smiley face magnet he picked up at the Mini Mart when he was on his food run.

That's when his cellphone rang. "It's Mom."

Tawny's lips spread into a smile because he didn't say _it's **my** Mom_.

"Did it come through okay?" He had scanned the photo and faxed it. "You're crying so it must have come through. Here…talk to the wonderful woman who is gestating the next generation of Hojem descendants for you. Because I haven't eaten in twelve hours."

Tanwy took the phone. "Hi, Mom. Oh, hang on a sec." Moving the phone she directed, "Greg, I forgot to tell you, there's something on the computer for you."

"Okay." While the women chatted he walked to the computer chomping on his sub sandwich, savoring every carbohydrate in the enormous roll.

Taking a seat, he tapped the mouse and the screen saver was replaced by Microsoft Word, specifically, Tawny's file listing. Immediately something caught his eye. A file titled **Hot4Chuckles**. He grinned, knowing that must be what she meant for him to find. Curious, he clicked to open it. "Huh?" Staring at what looked to be a copied and pasted online chat conversation he wondered why Tawny had wanted him to read it. "**Babe of Bug Stud** and **Slick Nicks Chick**? That has to be Sara and Carrie goofing around with her." He glanced over his shoulder and when he caught Tawny's eye he pointed to the computer.

So engrossed in the phone conversation, Tawny gave a big thumbs up without even looking at what was on the screen.

"Okay." He returned to the open document and began skimming getting a little more surprised as he went along. As he read, words jumped out at him.

**"Chuckles is a TALKER! Chats up a storm sometimes. Totally freaked me out 1st time!"**

_WAIT! I still do that! She's **never** told me I talk in my sleep! I wonder what I've said? Probably a lot of deep shit about work. _

**"He was going on about different kinds of cheese & I thought he was talking to me."**

_CHEESE! Yeah…she must think I'm a total freak.__**WHY** is she making me read this? Let's see what else there is._

When he saw Sara ask about the total number of positions he blurted,"They're talking sex," He whispered. _I can't believe they talk about this stuff so openly! HA! This is like the newlywed game. Let's see if my answer matches hers. I'll say 7. _

**"6 ½ He got a little too excited over #7 and we never quite…um…"**

_Oh…I guess she's right about that**. WAIT!** She told Sara and Carrie about **the ½!** That's embarrassing as hell. Now Carrie and Sara think I don't have control of my piece…which I don't sometimes…obviously, or I wouldn't be having twins. OH GOD, I'M HAVING TWINS! Keep reading…it will take your mind off the reality._

**"BofBSand BS are at 27 and counting!"**

"**27!"**_ Holy Hell! Grissom must be making up for lost time. I bet Nick has that beat by a mile. _

**"SNC have you hit position #2 yet?"**

"**Two!"** _No way! How is that possible! Well…considering what he told me about Carrie's history that really makes a lot of sense actually. He was being very cautious. That's cool…another reason to respect him. Because I know he's used to playin' it. He's been an excellent mentor in that regard. _

**"I'm LMAO about SNC taking notes from the files of…Chuckles the Master of Tantric Sex. If they only knew…Chuck would be thrilled and SN would die!"**

"OH! **OH!"**_ Chuck is thrilled alright! No wait…he's STOKED! But don't worry, I won't tell him. I'm **more **than happy just knowing it myself._

Engrossed in reading, Greg didn't notice Tawny coming up behind him.

Still gushing from her phone call Tawny said, "What's has you so excited? Did that guy offer…HEY! Why are you reading that!" She lunged for the mouse and clicked the document closed. "That's private!"

"You told me to!" Thrilled by his portrayal as a Tantric Sex God, he yanked her on his lap. "Thanks for the props, Baby."

"You had an **e-mail** from that recruiter guy about the job! That's what I was telling you to read. He wants to fly out here to interview you." Hanging her head she groaned, "That chat was personal. You weren't supposed to see it! I only copied and saved it for my eyes."

"Sorry…there's no way I'm ever forgetting that inside information. But I won't let on I know." Sighing he said, "Too bad I'm not having sex with you for a year, because finding out Gris and Sara are up to number 27 is motivating. Who would have thought those two would be the most adventurous?"

**The Grissoms'  
****2:15 a.m. **

"Up for a little adventure?" Sara devilishly whispered as her husband painstakingly roved his lips over her body. "Because these pregnancy hormones have me reeling." Their gentle tumble in between the silky 400 thread count sheets was thus far too demure for her mood.

"I sincerely hope I get thirty-seven more weeks of that sentiment." He grinned, knowing it was unrealistic, and yet enjoying the fantasy. "What do you have in mind?"

With a straight face she stated, "I was hoping we could role play flu sex."

It wasn't the answer he was expecting, "On second thought, I really do need some sleep." It was true, the problem was he was way too wired.

In the middle of their shared laughter Sara demanded, "Take me swimming."

**The Blakes  
****2:18 a.m. **

"Carrie, Honey," Nick's voice sang from outside the front door. "Open up, Sweetheart, everything's under control."

"Nick!" Carrie shrieked. "Thank God!"

Wendy was surprised a trail of dust didn't kick up from Carrie darting off so rapidly.

Throwing open the front door she was ecstatic. "What happened!" She thrust herself at him, tossing her arms around his neck and launching a flurry of questions and statements. "What took so long? Why are you covered in scratches! I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried because you didn't have your gun. I was getting completely irrational." Hugging him tight she sweetly whispered, "I love you, Nicky."

"I love you too, Honey." Feeling her body quake, he took the time to embrace her, not caring how many cops were watching their reunion in the doorway. "Hey now, I'm fine." He smoothed his hands over her back. "You can stop worrying."

Realizing what he said was true she snapped out of her panic. "Damn you! You should have waited for backup!" She scolded as she shoved him away. "That was reckless! You could have been…"

"What the…Hey! I got the guy!" He announced, knowing it would change her tune.

"You caught the bastard!" Her excitement outweighed her anger and she beamed with pride. "Do you think he's the killer from the dollhouse case?"

"No." Taking her hand he brought her outside. "He's Wendy's neighbor's son and he has an alibi. But you'll love this…there's a hidden reason they put their house up for sale. No wonder Wendy said these folks give her the heebies. The kid is a first-class perv at sixteen. He got expelled from school for peeping at girls in the locker room, no charges filed. Not sure how the hell that happened. Tonight he was treating himself to watching you look sexy in my t-shirt while he whacked off. Shit, if he was eighteen instead of…" He pushed the though out of his mind. "The bastard was hiding in some bushes in the city park on Madison. His fly was still down. It wasn't hard to find him because he sliced open his arm on Wendy's fence and left a nice spatter trail. Luckily, Sean had his bug flashlight outside on the patio table for me to grab."

Glancing around, she saw a teenager in handcuffs standing in front of one of the two patrol cars.

"Hey Carrie," Warrick greeted her with a smile as he stood on the sidewalk next to his kit. "Helluva a day, huh?"

"Hi, Warrick. Yeah." Glancing over at the blonde next to him she said, "Sorry, we haven't met."

"Sofia Curtis," She extended her hand. "You must be Nick's fiancée, Carrie. I've been looking forward to meeting you." Just as she suspected she was a petite waif and from the looks of things she had been crying over this trauma. No doubt Little Miss Carrie was as sweet and passive as she imagined.

Nick watched the ladies shake hands. Happy that Carrie would finally learn first hand how irritating Sofia was all the time.

"Sorry…excuse me." Carrie marched in the direction of the teen in custody. "What's his name?" She asked the cop standing beside him.

"Tyler."

The boy's father stepped closer. "I'm his father, Reggie, and my boy is innocent until proven guilty."

And she was verbally off and running. "Well, Reggie, I'd start making phone calls to find the best defense lawyer you can afford, because your pervert son will need it. He cut himself in my brother's yard, which means he left DNA evidence…that's proof enough he was trespassing. He may have even left traces of another fluid. I'm sure once the yard is processed we'll also find his sneaker prints in the flower bed beneath the kitchen window too."

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Whatever? Whatever!" Carrie raged. "You think this is a joke? You've been expelled from school and already have a history peeping. Peeping is just something to pass the time while working up the courage to aim higher. And you know how I know you're on your way to bigger and more deviant things? Because you're standing there in front of your victim, in handcuffs and showing ZERO remorse." Folding her arms across her chest she calmly informed the wayward boy, "You peeped at the wrong girl, Tyler. I'm with the DA's office and sex crimes are my specialty because I've been dealing with them since the age of nine. Catching offenders before they get to touch anyone is a real rush for me, thanks for the high. You're going to court and I guarantee you you're going to Juvy Jail. You can laugh all the way there if you like. And while you're there, I'll be pulling for you to be rehabilitated so I don't ever see your name on a charge again."

On the sidelines Nick watched his woman tear it up.

Warrick popped him in the bare shoulder. "Wipe the drool, Man."

"When she snaps into a litigious pit-bull…" He grinned. "It turns me on somethin' fierce."

"A litigious pit-bull…you mean, like your **mommy?**" Warrick taunted, "Carrie may be a pit-bull, but you're one sick pup. I may have to start calling you Squicky instead of Nicky."

Ignoring the buddy banter, Sofia focused on Carrie, absolutely stunned that the woman had backbone to spare.

Once the cops took Tyler away, his dad attempted to make a plea. "Look…we're moving to Atlanta for a fresh start. So can we just make some kind of alternative arrangement to you pressing charges? Name your price."

Officer Carlos Borrega and his rookie Billy were remaining on the scene for the CSIs. "She's in spitfire mode again, huh, Slick? She was just like this Saturday night when Billy had her step out of the car thinking she was a prostitute."

Warrick glanced over.

Nick laughed, "Don't ask, Man."

The five of them stood a few yards away listening to the discourse.

"Name my price?" Carrie's jaw dropped. "Your middle name wouldn't be Enabler by any chance? Your son doesn't need another free pass. He needs a serious psych eval, some jail time and quality rehab."

Reggie rolled his eyes. "For Christ's sake my kid only watched you through a window while you were wearing a t-shirt. It's what boys do."

"I beg to differ. Your son trespassed with the intent to violate my privacy and commit a sex crime, which ended up disturbing my peace of mind. You really need to take a deep breath and understand the gravity of the situation, Mr. Gleason."

"Look lady!" Reggie pointed his finger in her face only an inch away from her shoulder. "I don't know what kind of irrational femi-nazi you are but…"

Assertively she urged, "Move your finger out of my personal space **now**."

He didn't.

Nick started getting antsy. "Carrie…"

Not intimidated by the man, she coolly replied, "Very well, we're done talking. I'll see you in court, where maybe you'll start to take me seriously."

Fed up with the drama and feeling loose from drinking a half bottle of Gin earlier, Reggie barked, "Listen, Bitch!" He jammed his finger in Carrie's shoulder. "I've had enough of…"

In a blur Nick tackled the man to the ground and nailed him with a hook to the jaw.

"Should have seen that coming." Carrie ordered Carlos, "Can you pull Nick off him!"

Carlos slowly strolled over playingdumb. "I want to be sure I understand what you're asking." He figured he would let his buddy get in a few more punches. "You want me to pull Nick off the foul mouth ass who raised his kid to disrespect women and potentially rape one in the future? Is that what you want me to do…right now?"

Pissed she screamed, "Yes, NOW!"

Billy, a rookie who had never witnessed an intentional courtesy delay, looked on confused.

While Sofia glanced the other way, Warrick took charge. "Nicky, enough!" Reaching down he grabbed him. **"Enough**, Man!" With Carlos' help he pulled Nick to his feet.

Carrie shouted at Officer Borrega, "I'm with the DA's office. Don't you ever pull that shit in front of me! Now I'll have to recuse myself on any case you're on because I won't know if you're telling the truth about a defendant's injuries or lying on the stand." Then she saw the boy's groggy father bleeding from the nose and mouth. "Great…just great. Now I can't press assault charges against him without dragging you in, Nick."

"I'm still taking him in for Disturbing the Peace." Carlos instructed his rookie, "Get the breathalyzer, Billy. I'm thinking Drunk and Disorderly is a possibility too. I know complete lack of Common Sense is a given, but that's not against the law yet unfortunately." Handcuffing the loser he said, "See if you weren't drinking you wouldn't have fallen down and hurt your face, Pal."

Warrick reminded Borrega, "I need someone to replace you on the scene. Don't leave until they show."

Carting off the bloody _dad in denial_ who suddenly had nothing to say, Carlos replied, "I'll call for backup after getting this asswipe secured in the back."

As he shook out his right fist and walked towards his fiancée, Nick knew he was in deep shit. "Honey, he called you a bitch and shoved you!"

"Yes! I was there!" She was livid. "And I had an assault charge and an easy conviction!"

Playing the best hand he could muster,Nick walked over and quietly said, "I was just doing what your dad asked me to do…defend you. I heard him call you a bitch and saw him touch you…it clicked in my head. It was instinct." He looked to Warrick for backup. "Come on, 'Rick, help me out here. How many times have you pummeled someone when they insulted your woman?"

"Lifetime? A dozen maybe?" He smirked. "Cut him some slack, Carrie, he's had a tough day. And since it's over, what's the point of dwelling on it?"

Nick silently thanked his pal for his assistance. Then Sofia opened her mouth and blew the ground he had just made up.

"The point is…she was doing fine on her own, there were two armed officers standing four feet away to arrest the guy, and everything would have been handled **legally.** I'm a Quality Control Officer at the lab, remember? I'm not supposed to look the other way." Sofia shot both CSI Supervisors looks. "I should report both of you." Catching the look on Carrie's face she sighed, "But I won't. Don't ask me my motivation. Don't discuss it. Don't thank me. Just take it and leave it." With that she picked up her kit. "I'll check the yard for those shoe prints."

Warrick caught Nick's eye. "Well, you got one woman to go easy on you, and it's not the one I was expecting." He grabbed his camera and kit from its place on the ground. "I'll leave the two of you lovebirds to work things out."

Tapping her foot on the ground she snipped, "Your mother would agree with me."

"Aww come on…don't bring my mom into this." He pleaded with his smile.

"You brought my dad into it!" Carrie stormed towards the house. "You know what I'm really pissed about, Nicky?"

From the tone of her voice and the **Y **on the end of his name, he knew he was in the clear. "What's that, Sweetheart?"

"I worked **really **hard to relax you tonight and now this happens."

"Well, the only thing making me tense right now is, not knowing how much trouble I'm in with you." He summoned his best _Come On…You Know You Love Me_ grin. "If you remove that tension, then I'm relaxed and all your hard work doesn't go to waste."

She rolled her eyes. "Smoooooth, Stokes. If you think you're gonna play me that easily you…"

After grabbing her hand, he yanked her to his body, surprising her with an amorous kiss.

As the backup car arrived and their patrol car pulled away, Billy the rookie cop, watched Nick Stokes receive an overabundance of affection from his fiancée. "Since she's playing tonsil hockey on the front lawn, I guess she's over being ticked at him."

"Don't forget what you saw here, Young Man," Carlos laughed. "Your rookie lesson for tonight…chivalry ain't dead, and it gets you laid."

Still a little thrown by everything, Billy looked at his mentor. "Yeah…I learned that, and a few other things."

**Lady Heather's Dominion  
****2:43 a.m. **

Two hours earlier, after being unable to sleep or reach Heather on the phone, Jim Brass did something he swore he'd never do…show up at the Dominion on personal business. He felt compelled after walking away from her and because he needed her.

Two hours later, as he lay in bed, he was thrilled that he did.

They hadn't made love. Heather was fully draped in her Dominatrix attire and he had only removed his shoes and dress shirt, to lie comfortably in his white crew neck tee.

It was the talking that stimulated his senses. An intense discussion about his past…his mistakes and regrets. How mistakes repeat themselves and how frustrating it feels when you look back and realize you wish you could have done things differently.

She was a fantastic listener while he tossed random thoughts like…why would a guy whose own marriage failed due to lies, think it's a good idea for his best friend to lie to his wife?

And while the conversation started out about Grissom and Sara, it eventually morphed into one about Ellie.

It was all good.

Until frantic screams from the hall disturbed the intense conversation.

**The Grissoms'  
****2:45 a.m. **

Sitting on the third pool step with Sara still on his lap, Gil teased, "You didn't tell me we were having a race."

"I don't know what came over me," She replied while disengaging and floating away on her back. "Nice work trying to de-stress me."

"My pleasure."

"Mmm." In the moonlight she treaded water.

Walking over, he joined her in the center of the pool, the cool water lapping against his heated body. You're in shock about the baby aren't you?"

"Absolutely," She admitted. "All that talk and now that it's happened and there's a whole new crop of things to obsess about and learn." She chuckled sweetly. "I think I'll need more than cooking lessons from Wendy."

**The Blakes  
****2:47 a.m. **

Soothing her nerves in her kitchen, Wendy grabbed the coffee pot and filled the four mugs on the counter.

Luckily Ashley and McKenna fell asleep without a problem and Sean was in her room watching them while reading.

At the table, Carrie was finishing up her statement to Officer Zamora and Sofia.

"Here you go," She handed a steaming mug to each of her LVPD guests. "Are you hungry? I can fix you something?"

"No thanks, ma'am," The burly officer replied. "I'm on a diet and I need to walk to the car and phone some of this in." Raising the mug he said, "Don't worry, I'll bring this back."

Sofia, who had been eyeing the plate of chocolate chip cookies on the counter, said, "I'd love one of those."

"Take as many as you'd like." Wendy brought over the plate and set them on the table. "I bake when I'm tense so I'm about to turn on the oven and make another batch."

Nick returned through the back door and when the three women saw him grinning wildly they stared waiting for an explanation.

"Get this…" He took the mug Wendy was extending. "Warrick's over there processing the pervert's room and he tells me that he and Cath got a call today from the seller of the home they were buying, begging to break the contract a week before close. Nice, huh? They agreed to break the deal when the seller offered them five grand. Anyway, Warrick's in love with the pervert's house and is calling Cath out to look at it. I'm guessin' after tonight the Gleasons will be eager to take what they can get. I came back for that realtor's card…and a shirt. I left both in the guest room. I bet 'ol Dan Connors will forgive me for my so-called Totalitarianism if he sells the house tomorrow." Bringing the mug to his smile he took off down the hall.

Carrie looked at her sister-in-law. "Oh my god! Sean will flip out if Lindsay moves in next door."

Wendy cringed as she laughed. "I'm more concerned about Ryan climbing up in the treehouse to peep at her. How embarrassing would that be after all this?"

Nick quickly returned with his blue t-shirt on and the realtor's card in his hand. "Did you get a clean shoe print, Sofia?" He took a sip of coffee while he waited for the answer.

"Two."

Lowering the mug he followed up, "Photos first?"

Swallowing her last bite of cookie Sofia sarcastically snipped, "Gee, Nick…was I supposed to take pictures at the crime scene? And tell me again…why does everyone at work keep putting on latex gloves?"

Carrie choked on her coffee. She had been trying desperately to find something wrong with Sofia so she could empathize with Nick, but hadn't any luck. This latest exchange didn't help. "I think she's insinuating you're a control freak, Honey. Where would she get that crazy idea?"

While her sister in law was busy grabbing a cookie, Wendy didn't miss the intriguingly spiteful look exchanged between Nick and Sofia.

Thanks for the coffee, Wendy," He announced in as he set his coffee mug on the table "I've got to get back to Warrick,"

"Yeah…" Sofia guffawed, "Because I'm sure he's pacing the halls waiting for you to tell him what to do next."

"Take real tiny bites of that cookie, Sofia…" He suggested as he headed for the door. Once there he paused to smile. "…because I wouldn't want you to choke." Catching Carrie's surprised expression he followed up with a wink and a lie. "Just kidding about the choking."

**Lady Heather's Dominion  
****2:52 a.m.**

"He's choking!" Amber screamed as she watched her male client, who was wearing only a pink tutu, black knee-hi socks and a dog collar, flailing around on the floor. "But he wasn't eating anything! One minute he was twirling around on his toes and then he started shaking and fell to the floor."

Brass rushed over. "He's having a seizure. The most important thing is to make sure he doesn't injure himself during the process. Heather, find me a pillow." As he took removed the collar from around the man's neck, he didn't notice a medic-alert bracelet. "Where's his wallet, see if he has a medical card in there."

Mirella, one of Heather's best submissives, returned to the doorway with the phone pressed to her ear. "EMTs are pulling into the driveway."

Heather, just returning with a purple satin pillow, ordered, "Go and meet them at the door so they can get back here." Then she tossed the pillow to Jim. "I really hope he doesn't die. My insurance company is still riding my ass from the last guy who croaked."

"How compassionate, Darling," Brass replied as he rested the man's head on the pillow to let him ride out the spasms without banging his head on the floor.

"I found a card." With a trembling hand, Amber handed over are medical alert card to Jim.

"He's epileptic."

Heather snapped her fingers. "Amber, bring me his consent form. Did he write that on there?" Looking at Jim she postured, "I'm successful because I look out for my ass."

A minute later when the paramedics arrived they were accompanied by four police officers.

That's when it dawned on Jim…that he, the Assistant Director of the Crime Lab, was in Lady Heather's Dominion at two o'clock in the morning, wearing only an undershirt, trousers and socks. Glancing up he saw the veteran officer grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Assistant Director Brass," Officer Nelson nodded. "What a surprise to see you here."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 12

**Posting:** Tuesday

**Teaser:** A new day dawns...

Thanks for reading and your feedback on the last chapter!

Maggs


	12. Losing It Part 12

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 83: Losing It – Part 12**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****Madison City Park  
****5:27 a.m. **

Since they were wide awake from the night's excitement when five a.m. rolled around, Nick and Sean kept their plans to go running together. They weren't concerned about leaving the others at home because there was still a police car out front of the house while Warrick finished processing the Gleason home.

When the sun started rising, Nick noticed Sean panting hard and decided to lead him to the park and show him where he caught Tyler Gleason. Using his flashlight, he pointed out the blood drips across the sidewalk that led to the bushes where he found the perp hiding. "See that…the only way he could have made it easier would have been to draw me a map."

Having caught his breath, Sean's eyes followed the drips and then focused on a branch of the bush. "And there's some blood on that branch too. Didn't he realize he was giving himself away?"

"Well we know he's not much of a thinker or he wouldn't be committing crimes in the first place, right?"

"True."

"If he were smart, while he was running, he would have taken off his shirt and bound it around the gash on his arm. That way, the blood would have been absorbed by the fabric and not hit the ground until the shirt reached saturation point."

Sean pictured the scenario. "But even still, you would have lost him temporarily and that might have been enough for him to get away."

"Right. Then I would have looked for other clues…shoe prints, disturbed foliage. When you're running you can't or don't have the time to stop those things from happening."

"So now I know what to do if guys are ever chasing me and I'm cut." He took a seat on a nearby park bench. "But what if they're faster than me so even with a head start they'll eventually catch up?"

"Then you need to outsmart 'em." Nick took the space next to him. "You could give them a fake trail to follow…one that leads to a dead end. There's this movie, I'm sure you haven't seen it because it's rated R and real scary. It's called The Shining. There's this little boy in it, he's about five I'd guess, and he's trying to outrun the man chasing him." He decided to omit the fact it was the boy's psychotic father doing the chasing and that he was wielding an axe. "It takes place in Colorado in the winter, and the boy realizes he's leaving a perfect trail of footprints in the snow." Nick shrugged, "Kind of hard to not leave prints under those conditions, right?"

"If the snow is falling fast enough, the prints won't stay for long."

"But they'll stay long enough for the guy chasing you to follow them." After glancing at his watch, Nick continued relaying the details. "So here's what the boy does…he backtracks about ten steps, carefully stepping into his old prints, and then when he's near a bush, he jumps and hides behind it. In the movie they're in this wicked cool hedge maze."

"So the man follows the prints forward while the boy goes in a different direction."

"Exactly." Nick was proud of the deduction.

"What happens in the end?"

"The guy gets lost in the maze looking for the boy and freezes to death." Patting Sean on the back Nick pleaded, "Now do me a favor…don't go looking to watch the movie on the sly, because the movie is rated R and you're only twelve, and I know your mom wouldn't want you to see it. And, most importantly, I'll be the one who gets in trouble for telling you about it. We already got in trouble over the rope lessons."

"I promise."

"Okay, we need to head back." Nick stood, stretched his hamstrings and then started jogging. "I can **not **be late for work today because I was late yesterday for the first time ever."

Sean kept up the pace. "Thanks for taking me running, Uncle Nick."

"Hey…you never called me Uncle before, only Kenna does that. Don't get me wrong, it's cool. I was just surprised to hear it coming from you before it's official."

Without filtering his response, Sean explained, "After watching Aunt Carrie cry when she was worried about you, and knowing even though you didn't have a weapon, that you took off after the guy who was scaring her…I'm positive the two of you are definitely going through with the wedding."

"You got that right," He laughed. "I'd have to be held hostage or imprisoned not to show up for the wedding."

"I think the only thing that would keep Aunt Carrie from showing up would be if she couldn't find her wedding shoes."

"See…you're a funny guy, Sean. So don't be dogging yourself." He gently teased, "You need to use some of that on Lindsay Willows. She's a lot like her mom and appreciates a great sense of humor."

"I can't believe she may live next door." The idea excited him and terrified him.

Running the home stretch, Nick told his future-nephew, "You two could be like Mary Jane Watson and Peter Parker in the Spiderman movie. They were neighbors."

"Except I don't have a cool Superhero alter-ego."

"Maybe not yet…" He intentionally sped up, "But it's only a matter of time. Now keep up the pace, 'cause you're in training. And remember this quote…there's a fine line between being an ordinary man and an extraordinary hero."

Sean pushed to catch up. "With great power, comes great responsibility!"

"And with great responsibility, comes a stomachache some days." He laughed as he ran. "They never show Spiderman popping Maalox, but I'm sure he did."

"Hey, Uncle Nick…" He paused his speech to catch his breath. "But Spiderman doesn't get the girl in the movie. He has to sacrifice a personal life for his job."

When they reached the front yard, they stopped running and Nick addressed the boy's concern. "Here's the thing…the movies are just summaries, they're not exactly true to the legend. It's the comic books that tell the whole story. In reality, MJ and Peter weren't neighbors. MJ's aunt was Peter's neighbor, and that's how she knew Peter…from visiting her aunt. And MJ wasn't even his first love. Peter is madly in love with Gwen Stacy. Gwen's dad was a cop, and he figured out Peter was Spiderman and gave his blessing to the relationship. Unfortunately, during a fight between Spiderman and Doc Octopus, Gwen's dad died saving a child. In his dying breath he asked Spiderman to take care of Gwen." Suddenly he was reminded of Carrie's dad asking him to protect his little girl and lost his train of thought.

"Did Spiderman dump Gwen for MJ?" Perplexed he remarked, "That doesn't seem like something he would do."

The question refocused Nick. "No, of course not, they were totally committed to one another. But being a hero's girl isn't safe and Gwen was a popular target for bad guys wanting revenge on Spiderman. Kind of ironic since her dad thought she was safe with him because he was a crime fighter, huh? Anyway…one day she was kidnapped by The Green Goblin. The Goblin dropped her off the Brooklyn Bridge, and although Spiderman caught her by the ankle with a web at the last second, her neck snapped from the jolt and she died. Spiderman was haunted by the fact he didn't protect her from being kidnapped or save her from dying. Eventually he avenged her death by going after The Goblin, who ended up dying when he was impaled by his own Green Glider during their final battle. Just like in the movie, Harry believed Spiderman killed his father and vowed revenge. So you see…some of it's like the movie and some of it's not. Comic Books are where the real story is…they're written kind of like the soap operas my sisters used to watch, but guys don't admit that."

Enjoying the bonding session, Sean remarked, "I see a lot of Spiderman in you, Uncle Nick."

Nick laughed from the boy's compliment. "Well thanks, Sean. He and I are the same height, five foot ten. Only a **real **Spiderman Dork knows that…so, welcome to the club." Putting his arm around his future-nephew's shoulder he started walking to the house. "Beyond height I don't think he and I have much in common."

Sean was quick to point out, "You're a crime fighter."

"True."

"And last night when you thought Aunt Carrie was in danger, you took off after the bad guy. Just like Spiderman protects MJ in the movies."

He smirked thinking…and later I punched the shit out of a guy who called Carrie a bitch and shoved her. Spidey would have done the same for MJ. "Yeah…I'll give you that one…anyone touches your Aunt, they're feeling my wrath. But I don't even want to think about that, so change the subject."

At the door Sean inquired, "Did you read Superman stuff too? What's the story there?"

"Excuse me?" Insulted, he chided the lad as they walked through the front door. "No…I did not read Superman stuff too." In full comic geek glory, he explained, "My loyalty was pledged to Spiderman and Marvel comics. Superman was DC comics." When he noticed Carrie listening to his nerdy declaration, he expounded, "I never related to Superman…he was too perfect and stoic…he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve like Spiderman. Superman is like your Grissom of Superheroes. Spiderman, on the other hand, oozed vulnerability and compassion…and messed up a lot more."

Carrie laughed. "And you're the same height as Spiderman…five foot ten."

Sean and Nick looked at each other, then at Carrie while shouting, "Dork!"

"How did you know that Spidey and I are height twins?" In awe of her superhero knowledge, Nick crossed the room and took her in his arms.

"After we moved in together, I found your Marvel Comics Encyclopedia and read it to get to know you better. I loved your notes in the margins." She laughed in his arms. "I had no idea comic books were like soap operas! Those guys fall in love, they have fights with their girlfriends, they go to their day jobs, they find out their women are in peril, they save the day, have sex, and then it starts all over again. They get married, get girls pregnant, and of course the villain makes the girl lose the baby or kidnaps her and even kills her. The guys vow revenge, they fight. Unbelievable! It's like Days of Our Superheroes."

"You read my Marvel Comics Encyclopedia to get to know me better." Nick dropped to one knee, "Will you marry me! Wait…we already covered that." Grinning uncontrollably, he glanced over his shoulder. "Hit the shower, Sean. I've got business here and it's gonna be mushy." He jumped to his feet ready to smooch. "I'm a little sweaty, but…"

"Hey!" Sean couldn't resist. "Why don't you hang from Ryan's pull-up bar in the backyard and have her kiss you upside down, just like in the movie! You could even put the sprinkler on to get the rain effect! It would help with the sweat issue too."

Carrie saw Nick's intrigued expression and raced for the backdoor. "I haven't showered for work yet so, I'm game to get drenched and kiss ya! That was the best part of the movie."

Nick pointed at his favorite nephew-to-be. "I owe you for that one, Boy Wonder! Right now…**you** are my Superhero." At the door he yelled, "And one day, if she doesn't let you slip through her fingers, Lindsay is going to be very grateful for your overactive imagination."

Sean beamed with a combination of pride and hope when he looked out the front window and saw the _For Sale_ sign next door.

**The Grissoms'  
****6:08 a.m. **

Still buzzing from the pregnancy revelation, Gil wanted to do something special for his ecstatic, albeit petrified, wife. So, with great care, he prepared the ultimate breakfast in bed for a mother-to-be who had woken up ten minutes ago with a terribly full bladder.

"Here you are, Honey," He announced as he carried in the breakfast tray grinning.

Lounging in bed reading a pregnancy book, Sara sat up and prepared for the delivery. "I can tell by your expression this will be good." When the tray was placed over her lap she wasn't disappointed. "Orange juice, a pre-natal vitamin, a bowl of chocolate ice cream and a pickle…very nice."

"Thank you." He took a seat on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Physically?" She asked after swallowing her sip of juice. "Terrific." Staring at the open book and the page on episiotomies she shivered, "Mentally, I'm terrified. But I'm spending the day with Tawny and we're going to discuss pregnancy and baby stuff non-stop while we're prepping the townhouse and brainstorming decorating ideas. So, I'm sure I'll feel more comfortable by this evening."

"Biologically it's not a complicated process."

Through a sunny smile she reminded him, "You're not the one squeezing the bowling ball out of your crotch."

He glanced at his watch. "I should really get to the office."

"Have a nice day, Dr. Biology." She grabbed her hearty pickle and chomped. "The blastocyst and I will be fine."

Standing up he sighed. "Just as I suspected…you harvested my seed and now I'm obsolete."

"Not true!" She grabbed a spoon and dipped it in her ice cream. "I'll keep you around as my slave. Because I'm going to need a lot more chocolate delivered as the pregnancy progresses."

"I had a fantasy about being your slave once." Bending over he kissed her chocolate flavored mouth. "The context was a little different though."

**Greg's Apartment  
****6:10a.m. **

When his alarm rang, and Greg didn't flinch. So, Tawny, who was already awake from having to use the bathroom five minutes earlier, yelled near his ear, "Chuckles!"

He bolted upright babbling, "I can't find…why are you…what…" After glancing around, he saw that he was in bed with Tawny and finally heard his alarm clock. "Oh." After noting the time and pressing the snooze bar he fell back against the sheets. "Being dependable and responsible really bites when you're exhausted."

"I don't think anyone would blame you for calling in for a personal day. When was the last time you took one? You've had less than three hours sleep. Should you really be carrying a gun when you're dog-tired?"

With a furrowed brow he replied, "Thanks for putting that paranoid thought in my head. You know I hate carrying a gun ever."

Feeling bad she snuggled up close. "I didn't mean to make you paranoid. I just meant that you have a valid reason to call in for a personal day. Nick is a safety guy. He'll understand why you shouldn't be out in the field when you're exhausted. You know what…forget what I said about the gun. You shouldn't go because when you're sleepy you could mess up processing evidence and blow an entire case. Is that better?"

"Jeez!" Sitting up he gawked at her. "Got any other gems to make me feel confident?"

She obliged. "Maybe you should interview with the recruiter. You don't have to carry a gun in a research lab."

After yawning he quipped, "I don't know…nerd rage can be vicious. I think I would pack heat just in case someone misplaces their pocket protector and melts down." Suddenly the events of the previous night hit him. "Tell me I dreamt we're having twins."

She held up two fingers and shook her head. "It's reality."

"How are you feeling?" He felt bad for not remembering to ask first thing and lunged to lie down beside her, pulling her close.

"Don't even think of apologizing again," She warned. "Remember what the doctor said."

"How did you…right…my eyes gave me away." He moved in for some Eskimo kisses. "So are you and Sara still planning on hanging out today and going to the Townhouse to get some decorating ideas?"

"Yep."

"Call me as much as you want, but at least twice." He cuddled closer. "I want to know that you're feeling okay."

"I promise, but remember, I'm fine and the only thing I'm restricted from doing is making love with you for **a few days**."

"Sorry…**at least a year**."

"OH! First it was 7 months, then a year, and now it's **at least a year**." She whimpered, "Honey…I'm not used to excessive dry spells. I'll explode."

"Not if I take care of you."

She laughed. "And I suppose you'll expect something in return."

"That's entirely optional. If you're not up to it, don't worry, I can handle myself." He managed to keep a straight face even though he was cracking up on the inside. "Yeah…I mastered the skill circa 1990. It was easy once I took matters into my own hands. Then, when I started applying myself daily, the results came quick. Did I ever tell you about my high school steady, Pamela HANDerson? Quite a handful, that one! Really jerked me around though, so I broke it off when I left for college. Not to toot my own horn but, I was a hot guy and thought it was about time I shared myself with others."

Shaking with laughter she asked, "What happened when you got to college?"

He sighed and spoke nostalgically, "By the second week I started to long for Pamela Handerson. I had this reoccurring ache that wouldn't go away. I finally realized it was because she wasn't in my life anymore. I won't go into the gory details, but suffice it to say she just had this way of holding me and making me feel better. Anyway, one night, after I realized there was no one else out there for me, Pamela Handerson and I decided to join forces again. The makeup sex really took it out of me. I was spent."

"You're killin' me, Chuckles! I really wish I had written that down. Because it's totally quotable."

"Yeah, sure…you want it in writing so you can giggle about it with your goofy girlfriends." He laughed. "Trust me, you don't have to compare notes on that one…Gris, Nick and I, we're all very different personalities, but we're guys. We all have plenty of experience in that area."

After pecking his sunny smile, she whispered, "Promise me, if your ass is dragging, you'll tell Nick so he won't put you in the field packing a pistol."

"I promise." He grabbed one more kiss and then tossed the covers.

One glance at his boxer shorts and she giggled. "Looks like you're packing right now, Chuck. Must have been the heady conversation." In a sultry tone she offered, "Do you and Pamela prefer to go it alone in the shower, or would you like me, the latest, best and last love of your life, to lend a hand?"

"Okay, **now** I'm glad my alarm went off." Bright eyed, he extended his hand, motioning for her to join him. "I always wanted a three-way. Who knew this would be my lucky day!" When she slipped her left hand in his right he joked, "So what do you think of Pamela now that you've met her?"

"HA! You're on a roll today, Baby!"

**Crime Lab  
****6:40 a.m. **

When Grissom walked into the locker room he saw Nick stowing his belongings. "Morning," He greeted in a cheery tone. Partly because he was happy to see his co-worker looking much better than he did the day before, but mostly because he was still on cloud nine from the baby news.

"Hey, Gris." Nick shut his locker and leaned against it. "Yes, even though I got about four hours sleep before the incident, I'm doing fine."

"Incident?" He opened his locker. "What incident?"

"You didn't hear?" He cocked his head. "Hell, there must be a knot in the grapevine this morning. It happened last night when I was staying at Wendy's. Carrie was up late with her nose buried in legal briefs when this creepy kid from next door decided to stand outside the kitchen window to leer at her while doing the five knuckle shuffle. Carrie called in a 443 when I chased the guy. I found him hiding in a park a few blocks away. Warrick and Sofia processed the scene."

After putting his ID badge around his neck, Grissom shut his locker. "That is a busy night. Are the children okay?"

"Listen to you." Nick smiled at his co-worker. "Such a paternal question. Yes, thanks for asking. Oh, and Gris…" He started laughing. "I know you've been feeding Sean's voracious intellectual appetite with books for months, but guess what…he wants to borrow one of **my **books now. Apparently your library is not as extensive as you thought."

"One of** your** books?" His curiosity hooked and his library insulted, he prodded, "Which one?"

"My Marvel Comics Encyclopedia," Nick proudly informed him.

Satisfied that his library wasn't lacking, Grissom rolled his eyes then turned for the door. "Yes, he would have to outsource that. Even though I'm an Entomologist, I was a Superman fan. Spiderman didn't become popular until I was older."

"I pegged you as Superman fan."

As he walked out the door he yelled back, "I'll see you in fifteen at your morning staff meeting."

Once Grissom was gone, Nick re-opened his locker to retrieve his supplies.

"Morning, Boss!" Greg strutted in and tossed his backpack on the bench. "Nice to see you on time for a change." He opened his locker laughing.

"I've got a present for you, Greggo." Nick pulled a shiny new pack of sixty-four Crayola crayons from his locker and handed it to his friend. "But don't be thinkin' about doing crayon whippets now, because you'll end up being late for the conformist morning routine."

Greg smiled at the box and the sentiment.

"Thanks for yesterday, Buddy." He nodded. "For everything."

"Anytime, Bro." Unable to resist, he cracked open the box and took a whiff. "Yep…just as good as I remember." He held out the open box. "Wanna a hit?"

"I feel like I'm back in college." Chuckling, he took the box and a sniff. "Damn, that's good." When he lowered the box he said, "Here check this out." Nick retrieved his lavender aroma therapy spray and spritzed it in the air. "It's for my office when I'm tense."

"Lavender," Greg immediately called it. "I may need to borrow that. I predict a lot of tension in my future."

"Good nose. And you can borrow it anytime."

Having witnessed the entire exchange, Warrick finally remarked, "Hey, girls! What's next? Gonna do some catalog shopping?" Strolling over he laughed at the looks on his friends' faces. "If you really want to put that lavender aroma to good use, Stokes, spray it in your skanky-ass boots."

Greg informed his lockermates, "I've never been one to deny my feminine side, but only a** real** man could do this." From his backpack he grabbed the framed photo of the ultrasound and smacked the magnet-side against the inside of his locker door. "How many heads are better than one?"

"Two. No." Warrick looked on in disbelief. "Twins?"

"Holy hell, Greggo!" Nick moved in to stare at the picture. "When you set out to screw up, you aim high."

"What can I say…it's the Scandinavian Badass in me." He broke out laughing. "You know my grandpa got my grandma pregnant and had to leave Norway because of the scandal. It's genetic. I'll show you the DNA marker for it later."

"Congratulations, Pal." Nick gave him a brotherly pat to the back.

"Yeah…same from me." Warrick stared at the goofy guy in front of him. "Are you really ready for that?"

"Hell no!" He shut his locker. "I passed out cold in the ER last night when I found out."

"What were you doing in the ER?" Nick asked with concern in his voice.

"Tawny…she had this bleeding episode and we thought we were losing the baby. We were there half the night." He shuddered thinking about the scare. "Instead we found out we were having twins."

Nick commented, "That had to freak you out good…the bleeding I mean. What caused it? One of my sisters had a problem the whole time she was pregnant. Everyone was on edge for nine months. Are you sure you're okay to be here today? If you need a day…"

"I'm fine, really and she is too." For the first time Greg didn't feel guilty about the cause. "Guys…let me educate you on women. When they're pregnant, the increased estrogen level ravages their bodies in many ways. In this instance, we didn't know it, but the exterior of Tawny's cervix was severely inflamed. Well, on a good day, Tawny can barely handle all that I have to offer in bed." He puffed out his chest. "But last night, during our intense love session, turns out I was indeed too much for her delicate body. It wasn't my fault, just a combination of circumstances, and it didn't harm the baby in any way. But it did give us a good scare."

"Oh!" Stunned by the revelation, Nick blurted, "OH! You made your pregnant girlfriend bleed during sex? That would **totally** freak me out!" He shivered. "But you seem calm. Maybe it's just me…I'm probably still traumatized about that from college."

Warrick and Greg exchanged shocked glances and Warrick remarked, "Care to explain?"

Greg followed up with, "Mr. Responsibility made a girl pregnant in college? Don't you think you owe me an apology for giving me crap about being irresponsible, ya big hypocrite!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sanders, but no…that's not what I meant." Nick glanced around and then spoke quietly. "In college I sorta had this reputation as the go-to guy when a girl was tired of waiting to be de-flowered. You know…word got around I was a gentleman with skills."

"What a hardship," Greg rolled his eyes.

Warrick put a foot up on the bench and folded his arms across his chest. "You get college credit for that, Man?"

Greg answered, "No way was that offered for college credit, because if it was, I would have taken it every semester. I bet he did it for his Eagle Scout service project…the humanitarian badge."

"Don't be dissin' my scouting accomplishments." Nick teased, "Sanders, you were probably tossed out as a Webelo for being a non-conformist."

"No, I **quit** as a Webelo, because I couldn't stomach the dress code." It was actually true. "And those right-wing nutjobs wanted me to wear a hat and mess up my hair. Luckily my mom couldn't handle the structure either and yanked my ass out of there."

Nick guffawed, "Exactly how many times in your life has your mommy come to your rescue, Greggy? I know she flew out when you had the sniffles last year. One of these days you should really try saving your own ass."

"What the hell is a Webelo?" Warrick stared at the two men speaking a foreign language. "Must be some kind of rich white-boy cult. Stokes are you ever gonna explain your cryptic comment about the girl in college?"

"You're the ones who interrupted me!" He shut his locker and said, "Unbeknownst to me, this one particular virgin, had a partially intact hymen. She didn't know it either." Still squicked by the memory he winced. "Blood everywhere when we were done. She flipped, I flipped. It was like a scene from a horror movie except we survived the sex…usually the couple gets killed doin' it. Even though I knew I didn't do anything wrong or hurt her, it really messed with my head for a while…both of 'em." Shaking it off he informed the two captivated listeners, "After that, I removed my De-Flowerer shingle and exclusively dated loose women…until Carrie of course."

"Thank you!" Greg pointed at Nick. "I told Tawny it messed with my mind. I told her I wasn't touching her for at least a year, and she thinks I'm crazy. You have to call her and tell her that story."

"Sure, Greggo, right after lunch I'll call up the mother of your children and discuss my sex history…NOT. Yeah…sorry, Tawny doesn't need to know **anything **about my sex life."

And while he thought…_too late, pal, your fiancée already fed her classified information_, Greg tapped his watch with his index finger. "If you don't hurry, you're going to be late for the conformist morning meeting."

"What?" He glanced at his sports watch and took off running. "Shit!"

**Conference Room 3  
****7:00 a.m. **

Pete and Jas sat next to each other in the empty room.

"Looks like the boss is gonna be late again," Jas remarked.

"He did have a rough day yesterday." Pete studied his co-worker's smile. "Maybe he's having a hard time getting out of bed this morning."

"I know I did." A smirk pounced on Jas's lips

Pete grinned wildly. "Luckily I was there to help you."

"SORRY!" Nick flew into the room.

Greg strolled in behind him and remembering Nick's lecture the day before, managed not to make a smart-ass remark.

Grissom appeared right after Greg. "I hope I'm not late. I hear the boss hates that."

"We're all right on time," Nick announced as he took a seat next to Greg. "This morning, we're going to focus on The Dollhouse Case and since our resident Master Criminalist is in charge, he's going to lead our Conformist Morning Routine today. Gris…" In a perfect show of political savvy, he motioned to the open chair at the head of the table.

"Thanks, Nick." Grissom took a seat. "Since my position is new and this process for working a case is new, this will be a learning experience for all of us. As always our primary purpose is to solve the case, but I'm also looking at how we can solve it most efficiently both while we're working it and in hindsight. You are the primary team and while you're working this case, any regular work will be covered by others."

Nick raised his index finger looking to cut in and when Grissom nodded he did. "If you have something from an existing case that you need shifted then, you need to bring it to me after this meeting. We don't want anything to fall by the wayside, it just shouldn't be handled by you at the moment. Okay?"

Jas raised her hand. "Who do we actually report to while we work the Priority Case? You or Grissom?"

Grissom fielded the question. "Nick is your Supervisor, but I have the ultimate say on how the case is handled. If I tell you something is priority, you take it as Gospel. If you need to schedule a vacation day, you talk to Nick…just don't ask for any vacation until this case is solved."

Trying to operate in the gray, Nick clarified, "So, my people are still my responsibility, but you just get to use them as you see fit, when you see fit, and without consulting me. You've commandeered me and my team. You say jump, we say how high."

"Exactly." Grissom smiled with pride. "Being the Master has its privileges." Then he flipped open his file. "First, I'll cover the autopsy report. Tox results indicate our victim was given a lethal dose of GHB." The mention of the drug momentarily snapped Grissom back to Tahoe and Sara's near-death experience, but he shook it off and returned to the case without missing a beat. "So we know our killer had access to GHB."

"Who doesn't in this town?" Greg interjected. "Anyone can buy Liquid X on the street, in clubs, at parties. Just stroll in and ask the first shady character you see where you can get some Salty Water and you'll have it as soon as you cough up the cash." He saw Jas staring at him. "I'm not speaking from personal experience. It's my job to know this."

Jas smiled. "I wasn't thinking that. I just never heard Salty Water before."

Nick prompted. "Hit it, Greggo."

"Salty Water, Gamma 10, Grievous Bodily Harm, Woman's Viagra, Firewater, Swirl, Verve, G-riffick, Great Hormones at Bedtime, Easy Lay…there's a hundred of them." Shaking his head he said, "But they're all the same chemical compound…Gamma Butyrolactone…commonly known as floor stripper mixed with drain cleaner. Nice huh?"

Grissom nodded. "Actually that was very nice, Greg. Now tell us how the Salty Water is packaged."

"Small plastic bottle…like the travel ones you see in hotels. Depending on the concentration of the mix, usually a dose is a capful. The more money you pay, the higher the concentration and the better the effects."

Grissom prompted, "And those effects are…"

"It depends how the dose is delivered, if it's with alcohol the effects are intensified. Depends on the weight of the vic, what she has in her stomach, and if she's on any other meds." Talking to Jas specifically he said, "In the street lingo of my peeps, someone is considered in a 'G Hold' when they're losing muscle control and pass out. They're in a 'G Hole' when they start having breathing problems and are lapsing into a coma."

In an introspective tone Grissom added, "And a person can go from normal, to a 'G Hold' to a 'G Hole' to death, in a very short amount of time."

Nick knew exactly what Grissom was referring to and it made him shudder thinking of Sara rapidly cycling through that process. "Okay, so…the good news is, little Brittany didn't see anything coming. She fell asleep, lapsed into a coma and died very quickly."

"Yes." Grissom nodded. "So why place the bag over her head? Anyone?"

Pete took it. "To de-personalize the victim. Maybe he couldn't go through with the rape if he could see her face."

"So he's a necrophiliac too," Jas commented.

"No." Grissom explained, "David's final findings show the rape occurred while death was imminent. The body wouldn't have appeared corpse like."

Nick blurted in disgust, "No, it just would have appeared like the tiny lifeless body of a five year old girl."

"It depends on the mind of the killer, Nick." Grissom's voice turned cool. "In a fantasy-driven compulsion the mind can make the victim anything he wants. The vic's body can be the vessel used to fulfill the fantasy, it doesn't necessarily mean his fantasy was a five year old girl. The bag over her head could indicate that he didn't want to acknowledge her age."

Greg asked, "Then why steal the book to get more little girl victims if that's not what he really wanted?"

"Because it worked so well the first time. With the book, he has a list of potential vessels."

Nick reminded him it was personal, "McKenna is in that book."

"Who's McKenna?" Pete asked.

"My niece…future niece."

"Damn." Pete felt a shiver up his spine. "So not only did the vic look like your niece, she's in the book."

Grissom delicately stated, "Remember what I said…the look of the victim isn't necessarily a motivating factor for him. It could just be the ease with which he can acquire the victim."

Nick kept quiet as he thought…_that makes me feel better…NOT. _He started breathing a little deeper trying to prevent his blood pressure from rising.

Grissom leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "Greg, you and Jas are both very new to profiling. There are many types of sexual predators and within each categorization, there are offshoots. I believe our killer used what is called Seductive Bonding…it takes upfront investment and patience. This isn't someone who sees a child and pounces. It's someone who thinks through how to hook a particular child. Let's talk about the dollhouse. We know from Nick's interview with the father, that Brittany wanted one and we know from Mrs. McGuire, the dollhouse maker, that Brittany played with her samples at the craft show for an extended period of time while her parents ordered a dollhouse."

They all listened intently as Grissom bestowed his knowledge, but none more than Nick who related to the scenario personally.

Grissom explained, "The **Preferential Sexual Predator** courts their victim. The seduction often begins by offering something the child can't normally have or desperately wants…it can be a physical item…giving a child a toy they want but don't have, in our a case…the dollhouse. They may also provide privileges…things the parents wouldn't normally let the child do, in an attempt to win them over. There was chocolate ice cream in Brittany's stomach…perhaps the killer asked her what her favorite food was and offered her some. Unfortunately, with a trusting child, it can be that simple."

Although he was physically sitting at the conference table in the Crime Lab, Nick was mentally back in Texas and back in time. Back to the night Shelly, a twenty-four year old grad student and an acquaintance of his normal babysitter, Dana, watched him while his parents and brother and four of his sisters were at a black-tie wedding.

"_Want another candy bar, Nick?" Shelly asked before flashing a sunny smile. _

"_Really?" He glanced over his shoulder. In a whisper he explained, "I'm not supposed to have candy at night and I'm never allowed two big bars, well, except for holidays." _

"_Why are you looking over your shoulder, Nick? No one's home, remember. Your sister Barbara is sleeping at her friend's house and everyone else got to go to the wedding because they're older. You're the only one your mom and dad left home, so why not have a little treat to make up for behind left behind?" Reaching into her purse she produced another two Hershey bars. "I know I want another one. And don't worry…I'm not going to tell your parents." She slid the candy over the kitchen counter, positioning it in front of him. _

"_You're the best babysitter ever!" Snatching the bar he unwrapped it and said, "First you say you don't care about my bedtime and now this. I'm really glad Dana got the Chicken Pox." Overwhelmed with guilt, he lowered his head. "Sorry…I know that's not a nice thing to say. I forgot my manners." _

"_I won't tell that either." She smiled brightly as she tossed her long blonde hair off her shoulders. "See how that works…you can say or do anything you want and trust me. What do you want to do next?" _

"_I don't know." He shrugged as he chomped. _

"_Dana told me you love sports. You want go out back and toss a football?" _

"_You like sports too!" Nick excitedly exclaimed. "Yeah, I want to throw some ball!" He jumped off the stool. "Let's go!" _

"**After the predator has the child's attention and admiration, they foster an intimacy with the child by psychologically manipulating them." **

"_Do you like being the baby of the family, Nick?" Shelly asked as she tossed the football._

_Standing on the opposite side of the lit play field his dad had made for him and his brother, Nick caught the ball and replied, "No, it stinks, because I never get to do the stuff everyone else gets to do." _

"_What about your brother, does he pick on you? Because I have an older brother and he used to pick on me all the time. He was a real jerk. Still is." _

"_Andy picks on me all the time!" He hurtled the ball. "His friends too. They're nothin' but a bunch of bullies and they're stupid too. But I'm not supposed to call anyone stupid so don't tell I said that either."_

"_No worries, remember?" She caught the pass. "So, I guess they don't let you play ball with them?" _

"_Nope." _

"_Big brothers are jerks. He probably doesn't let you play because you're better than him." Grinning, she launched her next toss. "Great catch!" _

"_Thanks." He moved his fingers to the laces. "Watch this spiral." _

"_Wow!" Catching the ball she commented, "You must have pretty big muscles to throw the ball that hard." _

"_Wanna feel my bicep!" _

"_Sure." _

_Nick flexed his right arm and waited for Shelly to walk across the grass. "My brother says it's half the size of his, but he's a big fat liar. It's almost as big as his." _

"**Once the child appears comfortable, the sexual predator finds ways to introduce subtle sexual innuendo and initiate seemingly innocent physical contact." **

"_Hmm…I don't know, Nick." Shelly shook her head as she sweetly said, "It doesn't feel that big, but maybe it's because your thick sweatshirt is in the way. Maybe if I saw it…" Before she was done with her sentence he was taking off his grey sweatshirt. _

_Once again he flexed. "How does it look?" _

"_Much bigger than it felt through your shirt." Beaming she placed her hand on his flexed muscle and gave it a squeeze. "Feels real good too." _

"_Thanks!" He lowered his arm._

"_How about showing me some of your defensive moves?" She suggested with anticipation in her eyes. "I'll run with the ball and you tackle me." _

"_Uh…but you're a girl." Confused he informed her, "I'm not supposed to play rough with girls." _

"_I'm not a girly girl, Nick. I love sports, remember?" Waving the ball out in front of him she taunted, "Or are you just afraid you can't catch me and tackle me?" _

"_Nuh uh!" _

_She started running. "I bet you can't!"_

_Taking off he yelled, "Can too!" _

"**Of course the child is not experiencing the situation sexually like the predator is. They see the predator as a buddy…someone they can trust. Therefore, these situations which would immediately appear inappropriate to the outsider, don't feel wrong to the child." **

_Dressed in his navy blue pajama bottoms and white t-shirt, Nick pounced on his bed. "Wanna see my comic book collection?" _

"_You bet! I love comic books," Shelly enthusiastically replied. "You're probably a Superman guy, but Spiderman is my favorite." _

"_Get out! Spiderman is my favorite too!" He fanned a few of his latest on the bed. "You really are cool for a girl, Shelly. All my sisters laugh at me and say I'm obsessed with Spiderman. And they make fun of him because he wears tights. What do they know? They watch silly soap operas."_

"_How can they not love, Spidey? I don't know about those sisters of yours, Nick." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed she picked up one of the comics. "Sure he can't fly like Superman, but who needs to fly when you can spin webs any size and catch thieves just like flies?" _

_Amused by her references to the show's theme song Nick broke out laughing. "That's right. See, you get it." He crashed against his pillow to read. _

_Watching him as he lay there focused on the pictures in the book she inquired, "So…did you have a good time tonight, Nick?"_

"_The best!" He lowered the book. _

"_Probably because I let you break so many of your parents' rules, huh?" Sighing she remarked, "I bet they would be really mad at you if they found out everything you did."_

"_Hey…" His smile turned to a frown. "You said you wouldn't tell."  
_

"_I won't," She assured the panicky boy. "But I bet they'd punish you if I did, huh?" _

"_Yes, ma'am." He shuddered at the thought. "Disrespecting my mom and dad is serious business around here. If they knew I was breaking the rules under their roof and hiding it behind their back, I'd get to go to church and school, but nowhere else for weeks. They grounded my sister for the whole month of June when they found out she really got a C in English and she changed her report card to make it look like a B."_

"_A month? Wow…that's pretty strict." Shelly lay down on the bed next to Nick and raised her comic book. "No wonder you liked breaking the rules so much." _

"_Yeah." He re-opened his book. "It's fun." _

"_I really like you, Nick." _

"_I like you too." He turned the page. "I hope you can always baby-sit instead of Dana." Feeling bad he urged, "But please don't tell her I said that. I like her a lot and she's real nice, but she doesn't let me do all the cool stuff you let me do and she doesn't play ball."_

"_Yeah…I let you do anything you wanted to tonight, didn't I?" Sitting up next to him, she smiled, "Hey…can we take a turn doing something I want to do?" _

"_Sure, it's only fair." He lowered his comic and glanced up at her. "What do you want to do?" _

"_I'm not sure if you've played this game before, but here's how it works…" _

"**Prior to making the first abusive move, the predator has done such a good job of seducing the child that when they finally do make an overtly sexual overture, the child often feels obligated to comply. This person has been a wonderful friend…someone who has doted on them and showered them with gifts or privileges. The predator may also have planted veiled threats in the child's mind…coercing them without even directly forcing the issue. It's a potent combination of confusion, fear and guilt. So much so, that after the abusive incident has taken place, the child often feels responsible and is overwhelmed with shame." **

_When he heard his bedroom door open, Nick bolted up in bed. "Mom, is that you!" For two hours he had lain in the dark praying she'd come home.  
_

"_Yes, Dear." Still dressed in her party attire, Mrs. Stokes walked over to the bed. "I didn't expect to find you awake. It's after two a.m. Shelly just told us you went to bed right at ten." _

_Although he desperately wanted to tell his mother what had happened, the words were trapped in his throat. What would Shelly do if he told? And how could he tell on her when she promised not to tell all the things he did that he wasn't supposed to? _

"_Are you okay, Nicky? You look scared." She sat on the edge of the bed. "Were you having a nightmare when I walked in?" _

"_Yes." He gulped down the words trying to get out. _

_Mrs. Stokes placed her hands on her son's shoulders and when she did, she felt him tremble. "Are you shaking?" She placed her hand on his forehead. "You do feel a little warm." _

_Her comforting touch gave him the courage to confess it all. "Mom…" _

_Gushing with pride she praised, "Shelly told your dad and me that you were the perfect boy tonight. She said you didn't give her any trouble. As a matter of fact, she said you were an extremely well behaved young man and it was a pleasure babysitting you." _

_Shelly kept her promise, now he knew for sure she expected him to keep his. _

_Mrs. Stokes instinctively straightened her son's rumpled hair. "I must confess I thought you might be a little ornery, because you were the only one left home tonight. Your father was certain you would as rambunctious as Jenna's new pony. He even gave Shelly extra tip money because he figured she earned it keeping you under control. Thank you for making us proud. Your daddy said he'd take you for a treat after church tomorrow because of it. Anywhere you want to go…" Her smile widened. "…and without your brother tagging along. Just you and your daddy. How does that sound?" _

_After hearing her words, his slipped further down his throat. _

"_Darlin'…you're shaking awfully hard and you're sweating. Are you feeling worse? Let me grab the thermometer and some ice water for you to drink." Bending forward she kissed his clammy forehead. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Nicky, okay?" _

_Unable to speak, he bobbed his head quickly and once she was gone, he dove under the covers and cried. _

"Nick?" Grissom yelled after him while watching him suddenly bolt from the conference room.

"His pager was vibrating." Without being asked, Greg provided a cover for Nick. "Yeah…it was Wendy. All this creepy talk with his niece on the missing list has to have him on edge. I'm thinking he wanted to make sure everything is okay without interrupting you, Gris. He has a right to be worried. I'd be worried if I were him. He'll be back when he knows everything is okay." At least that's what he hoped. Considering the topic of Grissom's lecture and the way Nick's hands had been shaking under the table, he had a feeling it wasn't just McKenna on his mind.

**The Grissoms'  
****7:12 a.m. **

Sara was sitting at her home office computer, typing dates into a week by week Pregnancy Calendar program, when she saw **PryncessT22 **pop up on her buddy list. Excited that her friend was awake already that morning, she grabbed the phone. By the time Tawny answered on the third ring Sara was bursting at the seams.

"Morning!"

"Ask me what's new!" Sara prompted in a voice teeming with excitement.

"What's new, girlfriend?"

"I'm pregnant!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

The next thirty seconds was a flurry of shrieks and cheers.

Tawny finally shrilled, "I'm going to have a pregnancy buddy!"

"Me too!" Sara gushed not only from the thought of being pregnant, but from having a close friend who cared enough to share in her excitement. "Don't tell Carrie if you happen to talk to her. I didn't want to call her this morning because I figured she would be sleeping in, after spending the night soothing Nick."

"I bet you're right, and don't worry, my lips are sealed!" Giggling Tawny announced, "Our due dates will only be like a month apart. Do you know what this means, Sara! Our kids are going to grow up together, and have play dates together, and be on the same soccer team together!"

"Uh…not so sure about the soccer team." Sara felt it was time to give Tawny a reality check. "Out of the 4 parents involved in this scenario, you're the only one with any proven athletic ability. So how about…our kids will be in Chess Club together!"

"That'll work!"

"How was Greg doing this morning?" She inquired, concerned over her friend's dazed state last night.

"Still in shock over the babies and feeling guilty over the bleeding incident, but I managed to relax him real good before he left for work. I suspect he'll be the most stress-free guy in the lab."

Feeling an impending overshare, Sara warned, "Please refrain from giving me those details about my pseudo kid brother."

"I was talking about a massage, Sara! Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Oh."

"A really deep massage." She giggled. "Didn't miss an inch of his body either. HA!"

"Hanging up if you don't stop."

"Stopping."

Even though she scarfed her meal of ice cream and pickles she was starving. "Hey, you want to meet for breakfast before we head to the townhouse?"

"Sorry, I can't handle public food places right now. I have really bad morning sickness. When all those food smells swirl together I lose it."

"There's something for me to look forward to." She grinned. "I'm so excited about being pregnant right now, I'm actually looking forward to vomiting."

"You could bring breakfast over here, as long as it's not too stinky."

"Okay, what do you want?"

"Two Krispy Kreme glazed originals, and a decaf iced mocha latte." Giggling once more, she informed her pal, "Around here we call that the Booty Call Special."

"I'm only bringing the food," She joked. "I'm not putting out."

Laughing she replied, "No problem, I gave up getting it on with girls when I moved in with Chuckles."

"Oh." Her brows knitted. "I didn't know you were Bi?" Although a lot of strippers were, so it made sense. "Not that I have a problem with…"

"No, I wasn't personally into girls, Sara. I just did it for the money."

"Oh." She ruffled. "Okay, being gay is cool with me, but prostitution…not so much. I'm in law enforcement, Tawny. Does Greg know you…"

"NO!" Riotous laughter shook the phone. "The **girls **didn't give me the money, the guys in the audience did for kissing girls! It's totally legal to kiss a girl on stage and have some pervert in the audience tip you for it."

"OH! That's fine with me." She joined in the laughter. "Yeah…taking money from perverts to keep you in Iced Mocha Lattes almost has a Robin Hood quality to it."

"HA! I'll see you soon, girlfriend."

"See ya."

When she hung up the phone Sara sat back in her chair and let her overactive imagination wander..._my child with Gil is going to grow up with the offspring of Greg and Tawny. That could be a good thing in small doses to loosen up our little Study Bug, but too much and suddenly our kid will become a sexually uninhibited jokester with crazy hair. _

_Oh my god…what if I have a boy and she has a girl? They could DATE. They could have SEX…without protection…not that my son would do that normally, but if the girl looks like Tawny, he might go for it. They could REPRODUCE! If that happened, Greg and Gil could become father-in-laws to each other's children. They could be grandfathers of the **same** the child! That's completely freaky. _

_Wait…what if Nick and Carrie have a baby girl soon after they get married? Nick's daughter and Greg's daughter might vie for the attention of Gil's son, because after all…he's going to be just like his dad…sexy and smart, so what girl wouldn't want him? Yeah…that could definitely be a problem. It might cause friction between all of us. Unless… _

_If Greg has a son and a daughter, then Nick's daughter could go for Greg's son and Greg's daughter could go for Gil's son. That would work. _

_Oh…My…God…I've completely lost my mind. I can't believe I'm plotting this out like it could actually happen. I blame the pregnancy hormones…they must act as hallucinogens._

_Although…it is entertaining to ponder it. HA! But it's SO not going to happen. Reason number one…there's **no way** Nick would let his daughter date Greg's son. The odds of that happening hover right up there with attaining world peace. That's the kind of stuff that powers his nightmares. Speaking of nightmares…_

_What if Brass and Lady Heather have a baby? HA! Their kid would probably tie up all of our kids on the playground. Greg's son would probably like that. What if Lady Heather's daughter was attracted to Gil's son? MY son. Lady Heather and I could end up grandmothers to the same child! Yeah…let's hope Jim has had a vasectomy._

* * *

Next Chapter: Losing It - Part 13 

Posting: Wednesday night

Teaser: It's part 13...I hope something unlucky doesn't happen.

Thanks for reading and commenting,

Maggs


	13. Losing It Part 13

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 84: Losing It – Part 13**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****Crime Lab  
****7:15 a.m. **

With his cellphone pressed to his ear, Nick marched out of the building.

The painfully detailed memory had come out of nowhere and not since the abuse happened decades ago had he experienced it so vividly. It was unnerving him and this time, unlike the other times, it wouldn't go away. But he knew there was someone who could help. He knew she could since their first date…

_Carrie flashed a warm smile, "So enough about me, Nick, let's talk about you. You said you were a cop first and now you're a CSI. So you enjoy putting away the bad guys too. What made you choose your career?"_

_Once again Nick stopped walking. "I…"_

_Turning, Carrie looked up at him._

_After finding courage in her eyes and from her earlier message, he admitted the truth. "Same reason as you. I was nine. She was a babysitter. Only two other people know. You met them today. Catherine, I told her a few years back and Sara, I told her a few months ago when she told me about her past. That's why she and I started the backpack program to help kids. This whole issue…it's not something I can talk about but since you were so candid I thought..."_

_Reaching out she took his hand in hers. "If you ever do want to talk, you know who you can call." _

When he heard Carrie's voicemail he hung up and punched in her office phone number, hoping to get her secretary. And while he waited for an answer he hustled through the police department parking lot and down the street until he finally found some privacy in a grove of trees on the property of a large office building.

"Carrie Blake's Office, Maureen speaking."

Pacing the area he huffed, "Maureen, it's Nick, can you get her for me?"

"She's in a meeting with…"

"I don't care, just get her!" Leaning against a tree he took a deep breath. "Sorry, Maureen…rough day over here…no excuse to snap at you like that though. Would you **please** get her? Thanks."

"No problem, Nick."

He took a seat at the base of the tree bringing his knees to his chest. Two minutes later, Carrie's breathy voice startled him.

"Nicky, what's going on?"

"Sorry…didn't mean to alarm you, Sweetheart. I just needed to talk to you. I uh…" Glancing up at the morning sky he took a deep breath. "Out of the blue I'm dealing with some of that suppressed emotional baggage crap I love so much and I was uh…hoping you could help me get a grip because I really need to get back to work."

"You know I can, Honey," Carrie replied in an empathetic tone. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"Here goes…we were meeting about the case and Gris was lecturing on sexual predators…I was just sitting there listening to him and it all came back to me…in detail." Baffled he asked, "It's not like I haven't heard most of that stuff before, so why now?"

"Nicky, since our first date you've been dancing around the topic looking for a way to let it out," She sweetly reminded him. "I saw it in your eyes when I held your hand that night. It's been working its way loose in your head for the last six months. What happened on Saturday night probably gave it a real good shake. I guess Grissom's words today were enough to finish the job."

"I suppose." He glanced around to make sure he was still alone and took refuge in the solitude and Carrie's compassion. "When I told Cath I said about ten words. Sara maybe got twenty. I've said a lot more to you, but I never spoke about what exactly happened because I didn't have the details. Or so I thought."

"That's a gift and a curse our mind gives us, Honey. You know how it works…in the moment, when something's too tough to deal with our mind gives us a break and allows us to dissociate. Afterwards, if we still can't cope, the mind represses it for us to face another day."

"Or another decade." He hung his head.

"You're not alone, Nicky. There are millions of people walking around doing the same thing with all kinds of secrets. Some don't even know something's wrong, but it's impacting their lives. Some are walking around asking _what's wrong with me_, but can't unlock the answer. That's when the mind's gift becomes a curse. Your mind just opened a door for you …don't slam it shut again. Let's deal with it. You know you can tell me your secrets, because I'm safe and I won't judge you."

"You know I trust you, Carrie." Apprehension gnawed at him. "It's really hard to say it out loud. But it's stuck in there now and I can't seem…"

"Are you driving?"

"No."

"Are you somewhere private where you won't be disturbed?"

"Yeah."

"I promise you'll feel better once you let it out, Honey. Now close your eyes for me and pretend I'm right there with you and we'll walk through the door together." Tenderly she whispered, "Can you feel my hand?"

"Yes." Nick gripped the phone tighter as he lowered his eyelids.

"Just start talking. It doesn't have to be from the beginning, just toss something out."

"All these years…logically, I know …damn." He gave an anxious cough before making another attempt. "I…I blamed myself."

"Why, Honey?" She gently prodded.

As a knot formed in his stomach as he confessed, "Because if I wasn't so eager to break the rules that night she couldn't have held it over my head…which she did…she kept throwing it in my face, telling me how much I liked breaking them and that I liked doing things I wasn't supposed to do. But it was innocent stuff…eating candy, jumping on furniture, sayin' words I wasn't supposed to say, staying up late. I didn't even think of it on my own, she encouraged me…she offered me the candy and asked me if I wanted to jump on the sofa. Then she twisted it making it seem like they were my ideas. She…" He pursed his lips.

"That's what they do, Honey." In a loving voice she encouraged, "Now you're doing great, just keep going. I'm right here."

With her support, he continued in a tormented voice, "That night, after she was um…done with me…I lay there alone in the dark beating myself up thinking if I hadn't taken my shirt off to show her my muscles she wouldn't have wanted to touch more of me." Shaking his head he explained, "I just wanted her to see my bicep, I didn't mean it sexually. I was a little boy trying to prove he was stronger than his big brother. I was nine years old…I didn't even understand what sex was, I certainly didn't know how to intentionally turn on a woman." His tone sharpened. "But she **used **that against me. She told me **I** wanted it…that **I** wanted her hands on me…that **I** asked her to feel how big my muscles were and she was just doing what **I** wanted. She told me it would feel good…" His stomach churning he whispered, "When I told her it didn't and asked her to stop, she…she pointed out that my body was reacting and told me I as lying…that if I was willing to lie to my parents, then I'd lie to her too. I didn't know what to believe, Carrie. All I knew was, I didn't want her to…" Making a fist he bounced it on his knee. "I can't…"

"Honey, there's nothing you can say that will change the way I feel about you," She tenderly assured him. "And this shame you have, it's because of her manipulation. You were an innocent little boy. You didn't do anything wrong. Your body reacting didn't mean you were asking for anything. At that age the physical and the mental aren't connected sexually. Of course the abusers don't believe that, that's how the diseased people who touch kids justify their compulsions. It's a physical response of an immature body, that's it. It's not the child being turned on. You know that's true, right?" When he didn't reply she directed, "Come on…talk to me, Nicky."

After shoving out a breath, he started again. "Carrie…I **know** why I never liked women on top of me in bed. Before it was a feeling…something I didn't care for, but now…now I remember **exactly **why." His voice crackled with raw emotion. "I was a scrawny kid…seventy pounds soaking wet. I couldn't escape. And when I tried…she reminded me she asked for a turn playing her game and I agreed and that I'd be breaking a promise. Carrie, I pleaded…I offered to do other stuff. I can't believe I remember this." Sitting against a tree in the present, he lost himself in the painful past. "It's playing out in my head…it's all in there…like a bad movie…sometimes I'm watching it from the outside and I see me there…under her…squirming. Sometimes I'm nine years old again…and I'm looking right into her eyes while she laughs at me." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "I begged…I remember…I can hear my words…I offered to wash her damn car instead." In disbelief he whispered, "Can you believe I thought that would work? No wonder she laughed at me."

"You were trying, Nicky. You were trying so hard, but it was a losing battle."

"Yeah…I gave up." His anger flashed. "I gave up because she told me if I didn't shut up, she'd tell my folks everything I did and make shit up too. I…" He stomped his foot to the ground fighting the urge to yell. "I gave up because I thought deserved it. I thought it was my punishment for breaking the rules. How could I think that?"

"Because she was using classic manipulation that was well beyond your nine-year old brain's ability and you were raised to respect authority and follow the rules, or accept the consequences of breaking them." She sighed. "That's another sad irony. Good respectful kids are often the easiest prey for authority figures. How does that make you feel, Nick?" Carrie intentionally baited him. "She **exploited **you every step of the way. She knew **exactly **what she was doing. She **planned** it all. She was** salivating** all night just waiting for her moment. How does that make you feel?"

"You're right. That bitch knew just how to get me." His voice turned vicious. "She was calculating from the moment she saw me and I played right into her hands. She said by the time she was done telling my folks everything I did, I'd be grounded for a year. I was a kid, for Christ sake! I was scared and confused and she loved every god damn minute of it! She got off on it! Right there in **my **house, in **my** bed…a place that was supposed to be safe." Yelling into the phone, he flashed to rage. "She got on top of me and got off terrifying me! I see her eyes. She loved every minute of it. She loved it when I screamed. She loved it! I screamed and said she would be in big trouble with my folks. And **she laughed** and told me they wouldn't believe my story, because I was just the stupid little kid they left behind so he wouldn't ruin the night. She said my parents would think I made it up because I was mad that they didn't take me to the wedding." After panting to calm down he whispered, "I believed her…I believed her because my brother said the same thing before he left that night. I remember 'cause I yelled at him and my dad got on me about sassing. I snapped at Andy sayin' I didn't care about some stupid fancy wedding because I'd rather stay home and eat ice cream and read comic books. " His breathing quickened as the realization hit. "Oh my god. I never thought…"

"What?"

"Don't you see?"

"See what, Nicky?" A dash of anxiety peppered her voice for the first time.

His whole body twitched with anger. "That bitch is why I don't like planning our wedding. They left me home with her because they had to go to a big formal wedding. I don't…" Breathing faster still he shook his head trying to fling her out of his mind. "She'sruining that for me too! It wasn't enough that she had to force herself on me…to use my body…to stuff me inside her!" Gasping from the detailed admission he said, "That's what she did Carrie…how sick is that…how twisted is that to do to a scared kid!"

"You were violated and you have a right to be outraged. Don't hold back."

He had no trouble filling the request. "That was only the first way she screwed me...since then she's interfered with my sex life, my relationships, and now…now she's making me crazy at work and she's taking the joy out of our wedding plans. Don't you see…she's still screwin' with me! I really thought it was over. I'm **still** her fool. I'm thirty-five years old and I'm realizing she's **still** on me!" Raging again he screamed into the phone, "I thought it was over when I met you. I thought it was over Saturday night. But here I am…still tweaked by that bitch! I hate this! I hate feeling this way. You **know **I hate this!" He covered his face with his hand. "I should have never agreed to go here. Why did you make me do this? Can't you see…she's not on top of me, but she's still screwing me over and over and **over!** When's this gonna end! Huh? **Tell me, Carrie!** This is your area of expertise." He pounded the ground with his heel. "**When damn it? This is crazy!"** His voice grew weak. "When, huh?" And then weaker still. "When? I'm sayin' stop. Make it stop…make it…"

"Nicky…breathe with me." She inhaled deep so it came through the phone. "You got pissed and you got it all out, Honey, that's terrific…now just breathe."

He did as requested for a couple of minutes and once the rage dissipated, he opened his eyes and saw a new fear. "My God, Carrie, what if she's still out there because I didn't have the guts to come forward like you did. How many were there after me, huh? I'm living a lie here…my job…it's a cover. What am I doing? Am I putting the bad guys away to make up for letting her escape? Is that what's going on here? I'm trying to not feel guilty? How many others did she do it to? Right now she could be out there doing it to some other terrified kid! If I had just sucked it up and called her out I could have stopped her." Worn down, his voice cracked. "Why couldn't I have been like you? How can you stand to be with me knowing I let her get away? What if there was a kid before you that could have stopped that bastard before he hurt you? Wouldn't you hate that kid for being such a coward? What if that kid had been me? How would you feel? That kid is me." Closing his eyes again he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Nicky…don't drift away. Listen to me. Are you listening?"

He left his eyes sealed as he wallowed in the guilt. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"Our stories are worlds apart." She spoke confidently. "You were a nine year old boy in Texas. I was a nine year old girl in California. When I pointed my finger, men were ready to form a mob and lynch my abuser in the town square. If you had pointed your finger, those same men would have said, what the hell are you complaining about? Don't you know how lucky you are for scoring with a woman? At the time your abuse occurred, no one even believed female sex offenders existed. You know that's true, right? Let me hear an answer."

Robotically he complied, "Yes. I know that's true, but..."

"Your brother was fourteen at the time. He had to be talking about wanting girls, if not already doing stuff with them. Deep down you knew if you told how you really felt about what happened…that it wasn't a good feeling having a woman touch you…you knew they'd think something was wrong with you. It was Texas in1980, Nick. You know what they would have said to you." She urged, "Tell me…what those good 'ol boys would have taunted you with day after day until the day you died?"

Holding the phone in one hand and his head in the other he answered, "They would have said I must not like girls. They would have called me queer."

"That's right. You were nine and confused, but not stupid. Once a little time passed and you got over the shock, you figured out** that** was the reality and you kept your mouth shut. For me it worked the opposite. Once I figured out I could tell…I realized the whole world would be on my side. You weren't a coward…you were a victim who chose self-preservation. And that was a valid option for a scared nine-year old boy who knew if he spoke the truth he'd end up being victimized all over again." To alleviate his guilt she pointed out, "If I were in your position, I would have kept my mouth shut too. And I know if you were in mine, you would have pointed the finger. Do you believe me, Nicky?"

Opening his eyes he whispered, "Yeah…I do…I do believe you. You're right…I instinctively knew that if I told the truth my life would get worse, not better. It wasn't fair, but I knew it was true." His strength returning, he remarked, "But Carrie…it's 2005. I'm a man. I'm not afraid of being called queer. And assuming she's alive or not in jail, she's still out there. Without quality help and a miracle, you know these predators don't get better. She could have a new victim right now." Lost he looked for guidance. "What do I do? I don't even know her last name. Carrie…tell me what I should do."

"You have options again, Nick, and all are valid. Some are harder than others. Some might not bring you peace of mind. I promise we'll think it through together, okay? Right now though, you deserve some time to regroup from this part of the process. This was huge." Her voice was steeped in love. "I'm really proud of you, Honey. I know how hard that was. Where are you? I would have come to you, but I knew by the time I got there, you would have the door locked up tight. And I'm not sure you would have been as open if you were looking at me. Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm okay. I really am." He nodded, believing it to be true. "Where am I, you asked?" His normal voice finally returned. "Oh…" He watched the tree branches shifting in the summer desert breeze. "I'm sittin' in a field, hiding under a tree, by that big office complex down the street from the lab. The view's nice and it's a hell of a lot more comfortable for me than some stodgy therapist's office."

"And my rates are a lot cheaper. I'm only billing you for a hug and a kiss when I get home."

"You're the only therapist I ever needed, Sweetheart. I knew that from our first date." Just when he thought it wasn't possible, a smile found his lips. "Thank you for…oh hell, if I started listing the reasons I'm thankful for you, by the time I was done, the sun would be going down and we'd both be fired for missing a day's work. So in the interest of our careers I'll just say, I love you, Carrie, and when we have some free time this weekend, I want to sit down and go over all the wedding stuff." His smile broadened. "I may have some new input."

"We'll start from scratch," She gleefully informed him.

He stood, brushed off his jeans and started towards the lab. "Do you promise to keep that song you played for me?"

"I do."

Recalling how he used to trick her into saying 'yes' to practice for proposing, his expression warmed even further. "Tell me, Ms. Blake…**do you** plan on saying it that confidently on February 11th?"

"I do!" A wistful chuckle followed. "Mr. Stokes, **do you** plan on calling me later today?"

"I do!" He excitedly shouted into the phone.

"Say it just like that on February 11th, Honey."

"You know I will," He confirmed with conviction.

"I do!"

**Crime Lab Entrance  
****7:42 a.m. **

On the smoker's patio, Kevin, Mabel and Theresa salivated over their nicotine sticks and the latest lab gossip.

Leaning back in his chair, Kevin remarked in a flowery voice, "If the Assistant Director needed someone to spank his ass, I would have gladly put on my best leather and obliged if it meant a promotion."

"I would have paid to see that," Mabel announced as she fired up another ciggy.

"Ugh." Theresa grimaced at the thought. "I've always thought Jim Brass was normal. Now that I know he's crawling across the floor wearing a dog collar and licking boots at Lady Heather's, I'm never going to able to look at him the same way."

"Me either." Kevin flashed a delicious grin. "I have a newfound respect for the man. Hey, who else from here do you think goes to the Spank Palace for smacks?"

"Greg Sanders," Theresa instantly replied. "He's the oddest of the bunch."

Mabel surmised, "He probably goes there to get spanked for using too much of mommy's hair gel."

Immediately visualizing the scenario, Kevin declared, "I'd dress like his mommy and do that for free! Maybe Warrick could play his daddy and…"

"Kev!" Mabel held up her hand. "You **promised** us you were gonna let go of your Warrick dream, right? The man is as hetero as they come."

Laughter ensued until Theresa whispered, "Oh my god…Jim Brass at ten o'clock. Don't look!"

After they looked, Kevin and Mabel burst out laughing.

"I told you not to look." Theresa stamped out her cigarette. "Nick Stokes just met up with him in the parking lot."

"He's probably a Dominion customer too," Mabel guessed. "You know Stokes…he plays the political game. If the boss man is hanging at the Dominion getting his ass smacked, Stokes is there kissing it. It's probably what they do instead of golfing."

"Good morning, Mr. Brass!" Kevin politely greeted. "You look invigorated this morning, Sir…must have worked out some kinks last night."

Mabel followed, "Morning, Jim, we were just talking about you…and how much more relaxing it is to work under your domination…I mean direction, than Ecklie's."

"Morning all." Jim feigned a sunny disposition and kept walking with Nick.

Even though he was emotionally spent, Nick's Spidey Sense kicked in immediately…the comments were odd, Jim was visibly uncomfortable, and the gaggle of gossipmongers wasn't mentioning his own freakout on the scene yesterday. There's no way they would have passed on that golden opportunity. "Jim…is somethin' going on?"

"Uh…" After walking through the entrance, Jim turned to his prodigy. "There comes a time in every boy's life when he learns his daddy isn't the upstanding man he thought he was."

"That's not happened for me," Nick corrected. "I don't expect it will either. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm talking about **me,** as your mentor, not your real father."

"Oh." Nick relaxed. "Sorry, I thought you knew something about my family I didn't." He tapped his forehead. "I've got a lot on my mind. But I get it now…you're yanking my chain."

"Yanking your chain…you'll see why that's funny in a minute." Massaging his brow he sighed, "Actually, you probably won't." He dreaded it, but prepared to confess.

Planting his hands on his hips, Nick snipped, "Jim…really…what the hell is going on?"

"My mystery **lady**…her name is Heather…Lady Heather of the Dominion specifically. We have a regular relationship, I'm not a customer." He saw the shock reflected in Nick's eyes and forged ahead. "While I've only visited her there on Lab business, last night I made an exception and went to see her for pleasure. As luck would have it, one of the customers needed medical assistance and when the boys in blue showed up and found me rendering first aid, I was there in an undershirt, trousers and shoeless. I'm sure the expression on my face was priceless. So there you have it…" He held up his hands. "Daddy's naughty."

"Um…well." Nick cleared his throat. "Your personal life is really none of my business, Jim. And as a guy who once spent quality time with a lady of a certain scandalous reputation, God rest her soul, you don't have to worry about me throwing stones your way. While I don't agree with what goes on at that place of Lady Heather's, I know first hand that not everyone is who they appear to be on the outside. You like her…and I respect you." Placing his hand on Jim's shoulder he said, "I know you've had, and continue to have, my back. And I have yours at all times. So don't sweat it, we're cool."

Now that he saw Nick's unemotional reaction, he was kicking himself for not breaking the news to Sara as directly and preventing the shock-induced emotional response. "Really? We're cool?"

"Hell, yeah." He smiled. "Just don't expect Carrie and I to accept a dinner invitation if it's at the Dominion. That Squick Palace, and all those angry, whip wielding women, make my skin crawl. Not to mention, Carrie probably wouldn't hit it off with Lady Heather. Then again…" He rolled his eyes. "…considering who Carrie befriended last night, nothing would shock me."

"Who's that?"

"Sofia."

"What the hell?" Jim asked as they walked down the hall, passing by a bunch of cops waving pairs of handcuffs in honor of the bondage scandal. "Why don't you go find some bad guys to wear those! You're wasting taxpayer money loitering!" He groaned. "Yeah…I can tell this is going to be one helluva day."

Pleased as punch by the turn of events, Nick announced through a grin, "I think I'm buying you lunch today, Boss. Your faux pas knocked my nervous breakdown from the top of the scandal charts in less than twenty-four hours."

"Sex Shockers are always at the top of the scandal food chain. They trump everything. No one cares about real human drama when they can hear some sordid story about a man of power getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar." Brass chortled, "Just ask Bill Clinton." Lowering his voice he clarified, "Although unlike Bill and Monica…Heather and I not only have sexual relations, we have sex too."

"Overshare." Nick broke out laughing and then teased, "You let her tie you up?"

"You don't **let **a dominatrix do anything, Grasshopper. You fall to your knees begging her to do it **to** you." He joined in the laughter. "Surely you know that from living with Carrie. She's had you whipped since the moment you met her. You showed up at Gil's for brunch the morning after your first date already measured for a ball and chain." On a roll, he kept going. "Has she picked out your collar…I mean wedding band, yet?"

Just then Vartann came around the corner. "Hey, it's the dynamic duo of dysfunction! Bondage Man and his sidekick, FreakOut Boy!"

Brass retorted, "Riddle me this, Vartann…when was the last time you got laid? Yeah, that's what I thought. Who's The Joker now?"

**Conference Room 3  
****7:52 a.m. **

After Grissom ended the meeting, Greg had remained in the conference room. He was wading through the pile of vendor permits from the craft market as The Master had requested he do. Although he was enthralled with his work, when his cellphone rang he jumped to answer it on the first ring. "How are you feeling, Princess T?"

"Frabjous!"

"Excellent." Tossing his pencil on the table he leaned back in his chair. "What time are you going out with Sara?"

"She's on her way here now with a Booty Call Special. After we munch, we're rolling."

Quietly laughing he said, "I hope you're not outsourcing because I said I won't touch you for two years."

"TWO years!"

Looking up, Greg saw Nick walking through the door. "Hey, Baby…the boss man just walked in so I've got to run."

Nick motioned for the phone and Greg handed it over. "Hey, Tawny. Greg showed me the ultrasound photo. Congratulations and bless you for being brave enough to carry around and give birth to the spawn of Chuckles."

"What can I say…I'm a fool for a jester. Thanks for the congrats! Oh and Nick…I don't know if Greg told you but, we were at the ER all night and he's only had a couple hours of sleep. So please don't make him do anything dangerous today, okay?"

"Don't worry, I hear you there." He smiled, happy to know how much she really loved Greg, after initially being concerned she might be using him. "You relax and have a good day, Tawny." He returned the phone and took a seat at the table.

Greg didn't attempt to hide his sentiments. "Sweetie, have fun with Sara and I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too! Bye."

"Bye." Clipping the phone on his belt, Greg remarked, "She's real nervous after last night, so I hope it's okay that she calls me throughout the day." In actuality he was the nervous one, Tawny seemed fine.

"Of course. I may be a control freak but I'm a romantic too." He picked up one of the vendor agreements and asked, "So what did I miss?"

"Well…" Greg was about to fill him in when he thought he should confess, "When you were tearing out of the room everyone was wondering what was wrong with you. You know…they're still thinking about what happened yesterday. Considering what you told me about Carrie's abusive past, I figured you needed some air. So I uh…made up a story…I said your pager was vibrating and it was Wendy. That you took off to make sure everything was okay. I hope you don't mind the lie."

"No, I appreciate the cover." He sighed. "Great…now I owe you another box of crayons."

"Nah." Greg picked up the Craft Market booth diagram. "Okay, here's what I'm working on. I have all the permits for vendors who were at the Craft Market the day the mailing list book was swiped, which was the same day Brittany Thomas was there. I'm taking the booth numbers from the vendor permits and mapping them onto the booth diagram to see which vendors were within range of Tina's Tinys, which was Section A, booth 22, and Daisy's Dresses, which was section A, booth 17."

"Thinking the killer could be a booth owner or worker?"

"Right. Or a customer…which of course is a lot harder to track." After running his finger through his hair he suggested, "Maybe security cameras were recording?"

"I checked…the tapes are already deleted. They don't keep them beyond forty-eight hours." Nick stood. "Have at it Greggo. I don't want you in the field today because you're working on only a couple of hours sleep and you're under duress. Understand?"

"I'm fine." Greg picked up his pencil. "I don't need restrictions, Bro."

"Well, if you're thinking of me as your big brother then I'll say, _shut the hell up and listen to me punk or I'll beat your ass._" At the door he turned and smiled. "But as your boss I'm saying, disobey my instructions and I'm writing you up for insubordination, Mr. Sanders. I assume you recall your file is already flagged. So, are we clear?"

"Yes, Sir." He saluted. "Crystal."

"And while we're being all official-like, I want that first PEAP session scheduled and the confirmation form on my desk by noon. Not a minute later." He nodded. "I'm not Grissom. We're following the rules on my watch, Greggo."

He mustered his best military voice. "I'll schedule my P-AP A-SAP, Sir!"

"Not too shabby for a Webelo drop out." He winked. "As you were, soldier."

Once Nick left, Greg picked up the next vendor agreement.

_Pampered Poodles - Section C, booth 139_

It was on the opposite side of the arena.

_Bonsai Masters – Section A, booth 14_

It was three down from Daisy's Dresses so he added it to the list.

_A Little Birdie Told Me – Section A, booth 20_

It was two down from Tina's Tinys and he brought his pencil to the paper. "A Little Birdie Told Me?" He stated as he dropped the pencil and picked up the Vendor agreement to read the details.

_Products to be sold: Bird baths, Gourmet bird seed, Handcrafted birdhouses._

"Handcrafted birdhouses?" His mind flashed to his exchange with Hodges…

_Slapping the report in Greg's hand Hodges told him, "Nothing special about the paint. Could buy it at any decent paint shop or mega home store. The only interesting thing is it's heavy duty outdoor paint which seemed odd to me since nice wooden dollhouses usually don't see a lot of snow and hail action." _

With the vendor agreement in hand he hurried out the door.

**Grissom's Office  
****8:13 a.m. **

Nick knocked on the open door and proceeded inside. "Gris, I've got the results from our employee background checks on the furniture warehouse and the surrounding businesses."

Grissom removed his glasses and queried, "Is everything alright with Wendy and the kids?"

Looking up from the report, Nick pushed out a smile. "Oh…yeah. Sorry about walking out on you before. Everything's fine at Wendy's, thanks for asking. So, like I was saying…" He handed over the report findings. "A registered sex offender, Richard Brandt, charged with indecent exposure, works at the warehouse."

"Level of expected recidivism?"

"One."

"Girls or boys?"

"Boys."

Grissom surmised, "One is only moderate risk and it would be a big leap for him to go from exposure to planned abduction, rape and murder and an even bigger one to switch from boys to girls. How long has he been on the outside?"

"A year." Nick checked his watch. "Yeah, but we have to check him out anyway. Pete and I are heading there with Vartann and his boys."

"Keep me posted." Grissom returned to his own work, resigned that Mr. Brandt, although quite likely guilty of something, was most likely not their suspect.

"Will do."

**Trace  
****8:15 a.m. **

Greg knew that Hodges would be covering for Raj again that day. But unlike most days, when he wanted to avoid his nemesis, this morning, Greg was happy to see him. "Let's talk paint."

With his back still to Greg, Hodges grumped, "What? You couldn't pay Sofia to do your work for you again, Slacker?"

The words just slipped out. "Sofia only did my work last night because I was in the ER with my girlfriend, waiting to see if we were going to lose our baby. That's why I bolted out of here and didn't return."

Hodges whirled around. "Oh…sorry." Folding his arms across his chest he quietly asked, "Did you…uh…"

"No, everything turned out fine." Happy to see his ex-friend's human side for the first time in years, he leaned against the counter.

"Good." He unruffled slightly. "I'm glad it worked out."

Since they were alone in the room, Greg took a chance. "Before you flip the switch from nice to nasty, can we address this once and for all then drop it?" Stepping closer Greg confirmed in a whisper, "I've never said anything to anyone and I never will. So I don't understand why…"

"Here we go again! It's never been about that." Hodges huffed out some air and glanced around. "It's** always **been about **your** selective memory and **your **insistence that it was **my** idea. Which it wasn't!" He barked. "You were the one who downed a bottle of tequila at my apartment, not me. Why can't you accept the fact that your recollection of events **might **be just a little hazy? And that it was **your** problem, not mine?"

"Because I didn't have a problem."

"Yes you did!" Tossing his arms in the air he declared, "Okay, this is usually where we end the discussion, snark at each other, and drop it for months…but not today! Here's your reality check, Sanders! You just got back from LA and you had been drinking for…I don't know how long before you called me to pick you up at the airport. When I did, you were going on and on about some chick named Becca and what you overheard her say about you." Hodges, determined to finally make it sink in, stared down his old friend and heatedly informed him, "You were a total headcase, Greg. Does **any **of this ring a bell? Or do you **still** only remember the version you wrote in your tequila-soaked denial-determined brain?"

Surprise dominating his voice he remarked, "You know about Becca?" He knew for a fact he hadn't told anyone in Vegas, except Tawny, about Becca. He couldn't deny it was an interesting revelation.

"Yes! I do." Hodges shared the next detail, accenting each name with flair. "And because I was sober, I remember exactly what you told me Becca said to Trevor, Amelia, Dan and Renee. Whoever the hell they are."

"They're uh…members of the same country club my parents belong to in California." Stunned by the level of detail and the absence of it in his own head, Greg prodded, "What did she say?"

"She…" He stepped in front of Greg and lowered his voice. "She was telling the group that she didn't understand why you insisted on staying in the closet. That you show up without a date every Labor Day, Christmas and Mother's Day, and everyone knows what you're hiding. She said…you're not fooling anyone, so why bother?"

"I overheard Becca say **that**?" Greg winced as he tried to access the memory. "That had to hurt."

"Yeah…I think that's why you were trying to kill off as many brain cells as possible." He groaned, "Probably why you were singing that pathetic song too."

"I sang?" He winced, knowing he never sang for anyone, it meant he really was obliterated at the time. "**What **did I sing?"

"King of Pain."

"Oh shit." His hand rushed to his head.

"Special meaning?"

"Yeah."

"I thought so."

Greg sighed, "Was I any good?"

Forgetting the disagreement for a moment he nodded and smiled, "Yeah, actually, very."

"But I'm not gay," Greg confidently stated.

Hodges shouted, "Well, I **know **I'm not gay!"

"So you're Bi?"

"What?" His brow knitted. "No!"

Confused, Greg asked, "Then why did you kiss me that night?"

"I didn't! That's all I've been trying to tell you since it happened!" Then he remembered to keep it quiet. "**You** kissed **me.**"

Greg curiously inquired, "Why would** I** kiss **you** if I'm **not **gay? Not that there's anything wrong with being gay. I'm just not personally inclined."

Hodges heatedly countered, "Well, why would **I **kiss **you** if I'm **not **gay? Not that I think there's anything wrong with being gay either."

"Let's be logical about this." Greg flashed a friendly smile. "The evidence doesn't lie…I have a pregnant girlfriend. And you?"

"HA!" He scoffed, "Just because I'm an **unpopular** **ass devoid of social skills **doesn't mean I'm gay. It just means I spend a lot of quality time alone on my days off, and stock up on frozen entrees when they're on sale."

"Okay, okay…" Greg held up a hand. "Let's work it like a case. What was the last thing that happened before _the incident_?"

"Fine…I'll humor you, but only because you had a rough night with the baby crisis." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Hodges recounted the details. "We were sitting on the couch in my apartment. You finished your loser solo with flair and took another hefty swig of tequila. Then you started rambling about Becca…that she didn't know what she was talking about, and then…" He cringed. "You planted one on me."

"OH!" He pointed at Hodges. "I remember now! OH!" Greg enjoyed the euphoric effects of the Eureka moment. "I was proving I **wasn't **gay by kissing you and confirming it didn't do anything for me. Which it didn't."

Stunned to finally hear the confession, Hodges rejoiced, "So you admit it!"

"Yeah." Greg nodded. "I definitely initiated."

"And nothing was reciprocated."

"I'll take your word."

"And…" Hodges waited.

"And?" Greg didn't know what he wanted.

"Wouldn't it have been nice to ASK me first?"

A little stunned, Greg prompted, "You would have said yes even though you're not gay?"

"NO!" Hodges snapped, "That's why I was pissed! And then you had the nerve to say it was **my** idea. And act like **you** were letting **me **down easy. Telling me…" He mocked Greg's voice and mannerisms. "_Hey, sorry, dude, but dudes don't do it for me. Not that we can't be good friends because I don't have a problem with the lifestyle_."

"Ah!" It was all snapping into place. "So that's why you threw my ass to the curb." He laughed. "See…I thought it was because I wouldn't sleep with you."

At a loss for words, Hodges just gaped.

Feeling more than a little embarrassed, Greg reviewed, "So…uh…in the interest of closure, I'll summarize. Becca, the ex-girl of my old dreams, told the country club rats I was gay, which was a direct hit to my already fragile ego. To forget the pain, I started drinking in California…well, I was most likely drunk when I heard it because Becca often drove me to drink when I visited…anyway…I continued imbibing on the plane, gulped a few more at McCarran, and then I called you."

"I unfortunately answered my phone in a generous mood."

"While I was at your place I downed a bottle of tequila further deadening my senses." He paused. "Wait…why did you give me a bottle of tequila when I was already tanked?"

"I didn't. You brought it with you in your carry-on bag." Hodges showed his usually hidden softer side. "I was afraid you were going to drink yourself into a coma so I didn't want to leave you alone."

"Thanks." Greg cleared his throat and continued. "Okay…so after drinking an unhealthy amount of booze, I sang my official _I'm a loser_ _theme song_…King of Pain. Then, to establish Becca was a liar, and assuming…**incorrectly**…that you were gay, I planted one on you to confirm once and for all, I'm **not **gay. That's when I confirmed that Becca, and the hoards of other people who have made the same assumption over the years were wrong, because kissing a guy did nothing for me…even when drunkenly uninhibited and **undoubtedly** pent up. Hence the speech afterwards, letting you down easy."

"Congratulations on your breakthrough." Hodges pointed a finger. "And don't ask me if you were good."

"Wow." Miffed at his ability to repress the truth and more impressively, Hodges' restraint, Greg acknowledged in a guilty tone, "That was a really shitty thing for me to do to you, just to make myself feel better. Thanks for not killing me."

"Ding Ding! Give the man a prize! **Most guys** would have killed you," He reminded him. "Which reminds me…you're **really **lucky Stokes didn't answer his phone that night, because you called him first."

"I blame my obsession with Becca." Greg pathetically admitted, "That girl knows how to mess with my head. I also blame tequila. Yeah…tequila and Becca angst were never a particularly stabilizing combination for me. It's kind of like in Ghostbusters…you know the part when Venkman tells them not to cross the proton beams because he thinks it will cause total protonic reversal and the wielder of the proton pack to explode?"

Letting his inner-geek shine as bright as Greg's, Hodges interjected, "But in the end when they utilized a quadruple crossing to defeat Gozer the Gozerian, they realized it only leaves the wielder slightly crispy and stunned."

"Exactly!" Greg laughed. "That's me thinking about Becca and drinking tequila…leaves me crispy and stunned. Luckily those powerful forces will never be combined again because now I have the **true **woman of my dreams." Greg hung his head in shame. "I'm really sorry. Thanks for not killing me. Think you can forgive me?"

"Well…" Hodges looked at the shamed man standing before him. "Think Tawny can set me up with someone?"

"She hates you."

"She'll understand if you tell her why I was pissed at you."

"True." Greg nodded. "Yeah…I bet she knows someone, because she seems to know everyone…that increases the odds that she knows the one or two women in this town you haven't annoyed." He smiled. "I'll ask her tonight."

Returning the smile, Hodges extended his right hand. "Truce."

"Truce." After shaking on it, Greg rewound to the beginning of the conversation, "Okay." Smacking his hands together he announced, "Let's talk paint, mi amigo."

"What do you want to know?" Hodges walked across the room to pull his files.

"You said the paint on our dollhouse was heavy duty outdoor paint and the report that Sofia left me said the wood was treated with water resistant chemicals."

"Correct."

"But the results on the samples from the dollhouse maker showed untreated wood and indoor-use only craft paint."

"Yes."

Greg held up the vendor agreement for _A Little Birdie Told Me_. "I just discovered that there was a birdhouse booth near the dollhouse booth."

Hodges saw where he was going. "Birdhouse makers use outdoor paint and treat their wood. What if the dollhouse was made by the birdhouse maker?"

"I've been meaning to buy a birdhouse," Greg declared before sprouting a grin.

"Pick me up one too, and make sure it's made by a different person than yours."

"I'll be back." As he strolled toward the door, Greg burst into the tune of his infamous song, but sang his own original words, "There's a little birdie-house on its way…this is my case to solve."

**Brandt Residence  
****9:47 a.m. **

Rich Brandt, convicted Level 1 sex offender, sat at his kitchen table with Vartann while Nick and Pete toured his home and property.

"See how cooperative I am," Brandt mentioned for the third time. "Because I don't have anything to do with the rape and murder of a little girl."

A thirty-two year old clean-cut man dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, he didn't look like your average psychotic rapist and murderer, but Vartann knew they came in all varieties. "Yeah…you're being really nice about letting us visit. Then again, since it's a requirement of your release, you don't have much of a choice though, do you?" He continued checking his voicemail messages.

"You've been here for almost an hour," Brandt remarked as he watched the clock tick. "I have to get to work, so would you mind telling me how much longer…" Then he saw the two investigators appear in the doorway. "It's about damn time."

"Whatcha got?" Vartann asked.

"Nothing," Nick confirmed while staring the home's owner.

"Told you," Brandt snipped at the man. "I'm a perfect citizen."

"Because you're cured now, right?" Nick confirmed while staring at the pervert with suspicious eyes.

"Absolutely, I gave up little boys because I'm rehabilitated." Brandt assured before smirking. "I like big boys now, Mr. Stokes." He let his eyes rove. "The bigger the better."

"Great…because that's not illegal." Breaking his stare, Nick glanced around at the messy kitchen. "Your hygiene habits are sub par."

"Is that a criminal offense, now?" Brandt snapped, "When did that law pass?"

Vartann and Pete exchanged curious expressions neither sure where Nick was going with his comment.

"Nah…it's not criminal to have a sloppy kitchen." Nick shrugged as he crossed the room to once again stare down the man. "It just makes me wonder if you're a thorough hand washer after you use the john."

"You're wearing gloves, what do you care?" Brandt laughed.

"Right." Nick joined the man for a good laugh, then stated, "What about after you whack off? Do you remember to wash your hands **before** you stash your kiddie porn?" When he saw a reaction he marched out of the room. "Gentlemen, we're not done here. I'll be right back."

"What the hell?" Brandt looked at the remaining men. "Whacking off may be a Biblical crime, but it's legal in Clark County. And my thoughts aren't evidence because you can't read them."

Not sure what was going on, Vartann and Pete didn't respond, opting instead to wait for Nick's return.

Two minutes later Nick re-entered the kitchen and handed Pete an ALS and a pair of tinted glasses. Tossing on his own glasses, Nick instructed, "We're going on a protein hunt. You take the living room and the bathroom. I'll take the bedroom."

"This is ridiculous," Brandt protested. "I've paid my debt to society. How about giving me a friggin' break so I can get to work."

"Mr. Brandt, here's what I'll give you if I'm wrong…" Nick smiled, "…a sincere apology. And let me remind you, I'm not required by law to give one…that just me being a nice guy." Then he followed Pete out of the kitchen.

In the living room Pete remarked, "You think he's got something hidden?"

"That's what my Spidey Sense is tellin' me."

"Oh…" Pete chuckled as he flicked on his light source. "Yeah…now that I know we've got something substantial to go on, I'm into it."

Once in the bedroom, Nick turned off the light and shut the window blinds. First check was the bed…immediate results, but as he said a few minutes before…being sloppy is not a crime. Since he had already thoroughly checked all the obvious places…within the bedding, the mattresses, under the bed, in all the drawers and closets, there was no need to re-check those. He was looking for something craftier.

Shining his light he painstakingly illuminated the walls, and the pictures on them while taking small steps across the room. That's when he heard it…the creak of a floorboard. He shone the light downward on the hardwood. "Bingo." He called out, "Pete! Bring your camera, and have Vartann bring our allegedly cured pedophile in here." Although he was chomping at the bit he waited for the audience.

When Brandt walked through the door followed by Vartann and Pete, Nick smiled. "I just thought you might want to know you have some loose floorboards."

He played it cool. "Thanks, I'll get right on it after you leave."

"Here's the deal…" Nick spoke in a whimsical voice. "I haven't looked under there. It could just be a loose floorboard and when I lift it, the only thing I may find is some dust…maybe some bugs. Then again…I may just find something illegal under there that would cause you a whole lot of trouble." He shrugged and feigned a belly laugh. "I thought it would be fun if we all looked together. That way…one of us gets to look like a fool and one of us gets to say _I told you so_. It's Vegas…I'm a gambling man…my money is on you looking like the fool. Wait…it's not really fair to bet because I know something already." Nick illuminated the smudges on the wood. "Look who forgot to wash their hands after their last trip to Fantasyland?" He crouched down and grabbed his pocket knife. "Turn the light on for me, Vartann." He flipped open the blade. "Is Mr. Brandt sweatin' yet, Pete?"

Pete readied his camera. "Yeah…I see some beads forming."

"I'm just home minding my own business!" Brandt barked at the men in the room. "I haven't touched anyone!"

Just then Nick popped the floorboard and held up some glossy photos of exploited little boys. "I told you so! Guess that makes you the fool…not to mention a real sick pup." His eyes turned cold. "I think you better call work and tell them you're not coming in today."

"Shit!" Brandt stomped his foot.

Vartann reached for his radio. "Yeah…you're in it deep." Then he made the call. "I need some cuffs in here."

Nick yanked off his gloves. "Pete, I want pictures, I want it all bagged and I want the computer because Mr. Brandt has some print outs of chat room conversations in that hell hole. He said he's been home minding his own business, I want to know if he was planning to leave the house and take care of some." Then he walked over to the guilty party. "You opened your mouth to the wrong guy on the wrong day. You broke the rules and now you'll face the consequences of your actions you..." Reining in his ire, he backed away.

"Nice work, Stokes!" Vartann applauded as he handed over Mr. Brandt to the uniformed officer who had just appeared in the room. "I enjoyed it **much** better than your performance yesterday."

"Thanks." Nick winked, "Because I only do this job to entertain you."

Pete snapped his next photo and laughed. "Hey, if I'm the one named Peter holding the camera, how come you have the Spidey Sense, Nick?"

"You don't want it, Man." Nick somberly informed him, "Like Spiderman always says…it's a gift and a curse."

**Grissom's Office  
****11:42 a.m. **

As he hustled into the Master's office Greg asked, "Who's ready to solve a big case today? Me! Me!"

Grissom glanced up from the autopsy report he was studying. "Did you remember to replace the pot of coffee you just drank?"

"I only had two hours of fitful sleep so I need legal chemical assistance to make it through the day." Greg glanced as his watch. "I can't wait to catch some Z's later." Then he remembered why he was there. "Hodges just paged me. Our birdhouse results are ready."

"That was fast." Grissom jumped up.

"Well…it's **the** priority case, remember, Master?" He grinned. "What did you say this morning? Being the Master has its privileges."

"That's right, Grasshopper."

They started down the hall and when they approached Nick's office Greg announced, "Hold up a sec. I have to put something on the boss's desk."

Grissom joked from his position at the door, "Trying to suck up by leaving gifts? Sara told me you have a little issue with Nick's routine."

Greg waved his paperwork. "My PEAP session confirmation. Unlike you were, Nick's riding my ass about it." He lifted up the canister of Lavender spray and placed the form underneath. Then he checked the wall clock. "Woo hoo! With fifteen minutes to spare." Walking out of the room he remarked, "Could I **be** more responsible today? In these last twenty-four hours? At home, at work…I've got it down. Wouldn't you say, Master?"

Grissom smiled at his liege's enthusiasm. "Yes…definitely."

"I just spoke with Tawny before I came to your office. "She and Sara are out shopping for window treatments. She wanted to know if there was something you had told me yet. What did she mean by that?"

Side by side they strolled toward Trace.

A grin exploded on Grissom's face. "Guess who else is going to be a daddy?"

"GRIS! YOU STUD!" Greg shrieked…unfortunately in front of Kevin.

Kevin winked at the pair. "I won't tell the ladies."

Greg didn't miss a beat and joked, "Thanks, for watching out for our asses."

"All the time," Kevin quipped as he continued down the hall.

Grissom was gawking at Greg. "With your loud mouth, it's not much of a surprise we get hit on at Walgreens."

"And if we hadn't, when I went to see Tawny later…" Overly-caffeinated, his voice rose again, "I would have had condoms when we slept together!" Once again he realized the hall had an occupant.

Brass glanced up from the report in his hand. "Chuckles, can you repeat that in front of a few more people, because I really need the heat off me today? The two of you cheating on your ladies with each other would definitely knock me out of the scandal top spot."

Greg blurted, "Sara's pregnant! Spawn of Bug Boy is on its way!"

Brass lit up. "So** that's** why Sara went off so badly! She was hormonal. That's great…she doesn't really think I'm an ass."

Grissom shook his head, "Nice try."

"I left her a message," Brass informed the duo.

"Let me know how that goes," Grissom announced as he swept Greg off to Trace.

Two hours earlier, Greg had returned with a huge boxful of colorful custom made birdhouses, all of which he had purchased at a bird enthusiast shop called _Crazy 4 Birdz_. Two of them were fashioned by the hobbyist who ran the _A Little Birdie Told Me_ booth at the Craft Market, a man named Tom Hughes. Two were built by a woman named Didi Ellington, whose at-home wood craft business was called _Woodsy Wonders_. And one was crafted by John Ammerson, the owner of _Crazy 4 Birdz_.

When Greg threw open the door to Trace he harkened, "Hey, Homey!"

A laugh flew out of Hodges' mouth and Greg echoed it.

"Wow…" Grissom stared at the two men. "You really have been working things out."

"Of course, Gris." Greg patted his shoulder. "Because it's the responsible thing for me to do."

"Speaking of responsible…" Hodges splayed his reports out on the counter. "Guess which little birdie house matched the paint and the wood of our dollhouse?"

"Matched? Grissom questioned.

"An **exact** match…same paint, same wood, same water-resistant treatment. You know how I know?" Hodges pointed to the report. "_A Little Birdie Told Me."_

Grissom turned to Greg. "Looks like we're going bird watching. I'll call over for backup."

"Uh Gris…" Greg informed him. "The boss told me I'm not allowed in the field today."

"Maxed out on overtime?" Grissom prodded.

"No uh…he thinks I'm maxed out from lack of sleep and an excess of stress." He held up his hands. "I'm not breaking the boss man's rules and getting written up."

Grissom winked. "I'm the Master Criminalist, remember? I'm commandeering you and he can't stop me. Now get your kit and your firearm and meet me at my Tahoe."

"Yes, Master!"

"I'm still waiting!" Hodges snapped at the men as they were leaving. "Unless you don't feel I deserve to hear it even though I processed your stuff in record time and probably cracked the case for you."

Simultaneously Greg and Grissom replied, "Thank you, Hodges."

"A little too late, but…" He huffed, "You're welcome."

"Let's roll, Greggo." The Master barreled through the door with Greg on his heels. "The last time I took you somewhere bird-themed you got real lucky."

"Tweeters!" He laughed.

Hoping that Greg would be responsible for cracking a high-profile case, Grissom remarked, "Maybe you'll get lucky this time."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 14 

**Teaser:** Who really is responsible?

**Posting:** Late Friday/Early Saturday

I hope you're enjoying the series.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

Maggs


	14. Losing It Part 14

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 85: Losing It – Part 14**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****Grissom's Tahoe  
****11:57 a.m.**

On the way to the Hughes residence, after tuning the radio to a tolerable station for both he and Grissom, Greg relaxed in the passenger seat. His coffee buzz wearing off, he calmly teased, "How did you find out Sara is pregnant? Did you waste lab resources, young man?"

"No, we had a connection at the hospital." Grissom smiled, recalling the moment. "So we wasted the hospital's resources."

"Much better to stick it to that overpriced hospital than the county." Greg lamented, "Tawny's visit took $1,865 out of our savings. Can you believe they charge twenty bucks for the condom they place over the vaginal ultrasound wand! I could buy a jumbo box online for that price."

"Oh, that's right…Tawny can't be placed on your coverage unless she's your spouse." Keeping his eyes on the road he grinned for a moment then asked, "What are you going to do about that, Greg?"

"Actually…" He groaned thinking of what almost happened, "I** was** doing something about that when you wife pounded on my door and interrupted me. I was just wrapping up my preamble and getting reading to pop** the** question. So if this whole thing with Brass and Lady Heather hadn't blown up last night, I'd be engaged today."

"I'm really sorry, Greg." Then he thought about it for a moment. "Wait…you interrupted proposing to Tawny to help Sara?"

"It's okay, it was for the best. The bleeding thing would have happened and ruined the buzz. Plus I didn't have a ring." Shaking his head he declared, "It was totally hash browns instead of country potatoes."

"I hope you don't mind, but I'm too tired to have you explain that last part to me." It warmed his heart to know Sara had such good friends in her corner these days. "You could have stayed quiet and not answered the door when she knocked."

He chuckled. "No, because Sara, being the good CSI that she is, first located both our cars in the parking lot and yelled through the door_ I know you're in there!"_

"Oh."

"But we wouldn't have ignored her anyway because she sounded like she was really hurting." Reaching into his pocket, Greg pulled out a small folded piece of paper. "At least next time, I'll have a ring. I did some browsing online last night at Tiffany's because Tawny has seen that store in romantic movies and I know it would be fun for her to have her ring come from there." He opened the paper and read the description. "An elegant platinum band with a brilliant, round, one-carat center stone and a stunning quarter carat pear stone on each side." When they reached a red light, Greg handed over the printed photo. "I can't wait to place it on her finger. What do you think of it, Gris?"

"Honestly?" Grissom smiled. "I think you could present her with a cigar band and she'd say yes, but this ring is befitting a princess and she'll gasp when she sees it. It's an excellent choice, Greg."

"A gasp is exactly what I'm going for…and a **yes** of course, but I think we all know that's a given. Not because I'm an ego maniac, but because we're totally committed to one another already and this is just a romantic formality." He retrieved his paper, folded it, and returned it to the back pocket of his jeans. "Since we don't have a Tiffany's in Vegas and they don't have online shopping, I mailed my mom a check for the ring this morning. She's going to buy it in California and have it waiting for me when I arrive for Labor Day weekend. So now I don't have to worry about Tawny finding it in the apartment either."

"What's your proposal plan?"

Rubbing his palms together he ran through the schedule of events. "Tawny and I arrive on the Thursday before Labor Day. I relax for two days and get in the zone. On Sunday I go golfing with my dad and after we're done playing, we'll go out to grab a couple of beers. That's when I drop the bomb and prepare to suffer his wrath. Sunday evening, provided I'm still alive…" He beamed with excitement just thinking about it. "…I dazzle her with the perfect proposal. Just like on that TV show she watches. Then on Labor Day Monday, we bask in the thrill of being newly engaged, celebrate with my folks…assuming my dad isn't still ticked about me being irresponsible…doubly irresponsible, and then start planning a quick wedding. We get married, have our babies and live happily ever after."

Grissom couldn't restrain himself from offering advice, "Practice what you're going to say and make it as eloquent as possible. It's one of the biggest moments in your life, Greg, and Tawny deserves a beautiful delivery."

"That's funny…" Greg remarked, "Because Nick told me not to practice and just speak from the heart. What is with the two of you giving me opposite directions lately?"

"As the Master I outrank him, remember?" Grissom chuckled. "When I presented Sara her ring, I had it all planned and she was so moved. I'll never forget it as long as I live."

_Holding up the box, he explained. "This is the diamante case. I told Catherine that if I was planning on cracking open the case tonight she couldn't disturb me unless all hell broke loose. That's what she called to confirm."_

_Gushing with excitement Sara blurted, "Now curiosity is getting the best of me!"_

_"Then let's crack the case."_

_When he pried open the box, Sara's jaw dropped. "It's gorgeous." Her eyes raced between the dazzling ring and his loving stare. The Tiffany bubble ring, a lattice work of platinum imbedded with two dozen petite round diamonds, took her breath away._

_With pride he told her, "I picked it myself." Plucking the ring from its cushion he spoke softly. "The diamonds are crafted to look like bubbles in a champagne glass. Champagne is served in celebration and that's what I wanted to do…celebrate our union…our marriage of true minds like Shakespeare and more recently, you, put it."_

_"Yes," She whispered while staring into his eyes._

_Holding the ring in one hand, and her left hand in his other, he spoke from the heart. "Sara, I've told you so many things over these past seven months but there's one affirmation I've yet to verbalize although you know I've felt it for a while. Something very hard for me, something I've never said before in my life." As he slipped the ring on her finger he said, "I trust you. I trust in your love. I trust we will always be together no matter what life throws at us."_

_Knowing the profound nature of his sentiment, her eyes welled and her heart soared._

_The ring secured on her finger, Grissom moved his hand to her cheek, just in time to feel her first tear of joy cascade down. "When we do our jobs we're often challenged by confusing questions that result from us trying to comprehend the unexplainable or the unthinkable. I am eternally grateful to have you in my life. You are the one thing that makes sense when everything else doesn't. Your love is something I never have to question and I will always cherish it above all else."_

_"I…" She took a moment to glance at the ring on her finger and then refocused on his eyes. "I'm overwhelmed. By your words. By my reaction. By your gift…and I'm not only talking about the ring. "_

**Sensations Superstore  
****12:06 p.m. **

Having purchased a bunch of things for the townhouse that didn't require Greg's input, Tawny decided to switch gears and take Sara to a different type of shop.

Once inside and around the vast variety of lingerie, Sara's mind raced with possibilities. "So what are you here to buy, Tawny?" She inquired while wondering what she should purchase.

Clutching the handles on the blush pink giraffe-print Kate Spade purse Mrs. Sanders had bought her, Tawny sighed, "Something that screams, _you won't hurt me if you make love to me_."

"And what does that look like?" Sara chuckled as they reached the middle of the lusty mega-store.

"That's my dilemma." Sighing, she shifted her weight to one hip. "If I go for a hard-ass leather look so I don't appear fragile, it may make him think of getting down and dirty, which will make him worry he'll get carried away and accidentally beat up my inflamed cervix again with his hyperactive piece." Tawny lamented, "Seriously, I may only get one shot at this, because if it happens twice he'll feel so guilty he'll ban himself from making love to me for life! Not to sound like a crazed sex freak, but my body is used to regular interaction. And now that my body has joined up with my heart and mind, I'm addicted to Greg making me feel loved and physically satisfied simultaneously." Raising her voice she whined, "I'm not kidding, Sara, I'll go insane if Chuckles insists on denying me his special brand of jollies! His lovin' is like crack to me! And if he holds out too long, there won't be enough methadone on the planet to prevent me from getting the shakes! I need…"

"Time out," Sara blurted while fashioning her hands into a letter T. "Can I just say that it both impresses me and severely unnerves me that you can stand here in public and wax on about your ravenous libido, your addiction to Chuckles lovin', and most of all…your inflamed cervix?

Tawny burst out laughing. "I've never been accused of being shy. Sorry if I embarrassed you." Stepping closer she whispered, "I'm also bummed because we had all these wonderful ideas for California next week." A devious grin popped up on her mouth. "We had this great role play planned. Since he was a virgin until junior year of college, Greg never had sex in his parents' house. So, we're planning on acting out a little high school fantasy." She giggled, "Since it's already a severe departure from reality that Greg would have gotten laid in high school, we're pushing the envelope of believability by pretending he was failing math." She winked. "I play the part of the older, experienced math tutor hired by his mom. But after fifteen minutes of Algebra instruction, I decide to educate him in a whole new way. That reminds me, I need to buy a dowdy business suit to wear over my sinful…"

"I think I can figure out the rest," Sara interjected.

"See how much fun we had planned!" Tawny pouted, "And my special request was making love on the beach. I've never done that. Neither has he."

"Don't waste too much time mourning that one," Sara informed the distraught girl. "Sex on the beach is **totally** overrated."

"You and Gil have had sex on the beach?"

Sara whispered her reply. "No, it was in college. It's the sand…even with a good blanket, it manages to get everywhere. Yep…one gentle ocean breeze and suddenly your guy is wearing a sandpaper condom."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Probably not good for the inflamed cervix."

"I'd say no."

Tawny refocused on the original topic. "Back to picking the perfect lingerie…if I go for a super sweet virginal look then it might plant the idea in his head that I'm too frail to touch. What are your thoughts?"

"Honestly?" She laughed. "I'm thinking I don't want to think about what will turn on my pseudo kid brother so that he'll want to _use his piece_, but not use it too enthusiastically."

"Let's talk about you then." Tawny moved over to a rack of feather boas and dangled one in front of Sara. "You could play a can-can girl for Gil. Have you ever seen Moulin Rouge? I did a number from that for Greg and he…oops there I go again. **Damn pregnancy hormones from hell!"**

Suddenly one particular piece of lingerie displayed on a mannequin caught Sara's eye and triggered a thought…

_Gil prodded, "Is there anyone else in the room from whom I can select? Are they in a hotel? The Paris maybe? Does a French Maid walk in? Yes, I believe she does." He wiggled his brows. "I pick her."_

"I know what I'm buying." Sara made a beeline for the rack of naughty French Maid themed lingerie.

**Grissom's Tahoe  
****12:12 p.m.**

"Sara's quite the romantic," Grissom enthused while driving.

Greg gave a sweet laugh, "Funny…I never got that impression when she was shooting me down."

"It wasn't in the cards…because your competition was too strong."

"The Master is really full of himself today!"

"Probably because I found out I've procreated…it's making me cocky."

"Sara wasn't my destiny, that's why she turned me down. She could sense it." Greg grinned wildly. "It's all about fate. I was just biding time until my soulmate appeared before my eyes."

Grissom teased, "Yeah…one step inside a strip club can change your life forever."

"That's what I thought the first time I stepped into one and saw all those enormous ta-tas there for me to leer at all night for ten bucks and the price of two drinks."

"I remember thinking the same thing," Grissom confessed.

"Oh! You know what I just remembered. That first time, I turned to my pal, Robbie and said…if only I could get one of these girls to marry me." Laughing hard he slapped his leg "I'm totally serious about that. Wait until he sees Tawny next week!"

"Maybe you're right…it's all about fate," Grissom assured him. "Some people believe everything happens for a reason. That there are no coincidences…even when people bump into each other…"

**Sensations Superstore  
****12:14 p.m. **

While holding up the last of three choices of naughty French Maid lingerie, Sara asked, "Tawny…which one do you think screams, _you know you want me you scamp?"_

"Gil's a man." Tawny quipped, "The answer is all of the above."

Just then the two women heard a familiar voice call out from across the store and they turned towards it.

Catherine raised her sunglasses and parked them on top of her head. "Tawny I'd expect to find you here, but Sara holding a g-string French Maid costume…not so much…but it's a nice surprise." Feeling the delicate mesh of the costume she taunted, "I'm sure the surprise will be even nicer for Gil." She saw Sara's cheeks go from pale to blush. "Me seeing this is killing you, isn't it?"

Tawny grabbed Catherine's hand. "I bet you can help me! Greg's afraid to have sex with me and I'm trying to find the perfect lingerie to entice him."

Stunned by the statement, Catherine probed, "**Greg **is afraid to have sex with you? Greg Hojem Sanders? About five ten, gorgeous brown eyes, crazy hair, insane personality and insatiably horny?"

Sara jumped in to explain, "There's a little more to the story." She grinned, happy for her friend. "Tawny has some news."

"I have a severely inflamed cervix and…"

"No… Sara playfully shoved her. "The **other **news. She doesn't know yet."

"OH!" Tawny shrieked. "We're having twins!"

"Chuckles got you pregnant **twice in one shot**?" Bursting into a smile Catherine teased, "I guess after being pent up for so long his swimmers were hell bent on getting the job done."

"Speaking of getting the job done." She elbowed Sara. "Tell her your news."

Being a perceptive CSI, Catherine blurted, "You're pregnant!"

Beaming from the announcement and blushing from its delivery Sara gushed, "Just found out last night."

"Congratulations! I'm so happy for the two of you. And for me, because…really…you couldn't have done it without **me.**" Catherine threw her arms around her friend. "I know you don't like public personal space violations but tough luck."

"Thanks, Catherine and yes…we do owe so much to you." Sara returned the embrace. "Now let's get the spotlight off me. Speaking of tough luck…" She stepped out of the hug. "Unbeknownst to Greg or Tawny last night, Tawny's cervix was inflamed and…"

Catherine held up her hand. "Happened to Eddie and me, when I was pregnant with Lindsay. I was scared to death thinking I was miscarrying."

Relieved to know someone else had a similar experience Tawny tenderly inquired, "Did Eddie vow not to make love to you for years?"

After she stopped laughing, Catherine replied, "Yeah, right…something like that. The doctor told us we had to wait until Friday and Eddie circled the day on the calendar in blood-red pen. That bastard." She groaned and out of guilt added, "God rest his soul."

"Oh."

Shaking off her irritation Catherine remarked, "But Greg's no Eddie, so I bet he's afraid to touch you because he thinks he'll hurt you."

"Right!"

Sara grinned, "So tell us oh wise one…what lingerie should she wear to change his mind because he's telling her it's a two year freeze?"

"Lingerie won't do it," Catherine was quick to inform the girls. "No…you need to try a different approach. Follow me." With a swing in her step she crossed the store until she arrived at the personal accessories counter.

Sara and Tawny eyed the variety of battery-operated male body parts as Catherine lectured. "You need to bring one of these girth-gifted faux gentlemen home and tell him in the sweetest voice possible, that you understand and respect how he feels and therefore you'll fulfill your needs with…insert the name of your new friend here…until he feels up to the task again." She cackled. "He'll drop his drawers before you flick the on switch."

Tawny stood in awe of her mentor. "You're brilliant!"

"I know."

The salesclerk arrived at the counter. "How may I help you ladies?"

Tawny looked at her friends. "Well, why go with what I already have, right?" Grinning from ear to ear, she pointed to a particularly enticing piece of equipment that could easily belong to a very gifted African American gentleman. "I'd like to see this one."

"Excellent choice," Catherine confirmed. "Whatcha gonna name him?"

Tawny deadpanned, "I'm thinking **WAR**ren or Der**RICK**."

Sara's face was hidden behind her right hand as her body shook with laughter.

"Perfect." Catherine gave her a thumbs up. "I think the model you selected and your name choices will only make this plan more effective on Greggy."

Just as Tawny was handed her new best friend, Catherine's shopping partner showed up holding a Tower Records bag.

"Hey ladies," Warrick warmly announced. "Are you…" Then he noticed Sara holding a risqué French Maid's outfit and Tawny holding the faux body part that was so enormous it required both of her hands to hold it upright. "…uh…having a nice time on your day off, Sara?"

Embarrassed, Sara hid the lingerie behind her back. "Yes."

Tawny on the other hand, jokingly pointed her purchase at Catherine's beau. "We were just talking about you, Warrick."

Catherine slid her arm around her man's waist. "Are you done shopping, Baby? Because suddenly I'm in the mood to go home and get some R&R."

Warrick took one look at Sara's mortification and replied, "And suddenly I want to crawl in a hole and die. I'll meet you at the car. Have a nice afternoon _ladies_."

**Hughes Residence  
****12:31 p.m. **

Per the instructions of Detective Vega, Grissom and Greg hung back at the Tahoe waiting for the all clear. Greg couldn't have been more thrilled with the order. Having been up for the last thirty out of thirty-two hours and with the blazing heat of the day quickly draining him, the last place he wanted to be was standing at the front door waiting to see if guns would be drawn.

"Did you pack any water, Gris?" Greg wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's extra humid today, don't you think?"

"No, I don't have any water. I was in a rush to get moving on this." He glanced at his watch. "It is brutal out and it's only noon. We'll give it another two minutes and if they're not ready we'll climb inside the truck and turn on the air."

Trying to take his mind of his thirst, Greg stared at the large Victorian style home. "This doesn't look like a typical house even for this remote part of the city." The house was at the end of a winding dirt road and sat on what appeared to be at least five acres.

"Definitely custom built. Probably about forty years old." He glanced around. "Nice piece of real estate. Who knew making birdhouses could be so lucrative."

"A custom built house…sounds similar to a custom built **dollhouse**."

Grissom raised a brow.

On his way over Vega called out, "You're on, Grissom." He stopped and waited for them to join him. "Tom and Debra Hughes are the occupants of the home. Only Debra, the birdhouse maker's wife is home. The birdhouse maker, Tom, has been in Toronto for the past five days. So he's ruled out as the perp."

"Confirmed?"

"Confirmed." Vega nodded. "That's what was taking so long. "Both the wife and, via telephone, the husband, have given us permission to enter and check out anything we'd like. Mr. Hughes says we're free to take anything but he wants a list and he wants it back."

Greg sighed. "So he has an alibi and they don't care we're snooping. So much for this lead. It sounded so promising."

"Every lead leads somewhere else, Greg." Grissom started walking. "Let's see where this leads us to."

**Crime Lab  
****12:46 p.m. **

Jas sat at the computer indexing motor vehicle records looking for a partial plate to match a vehicle description that Derek Eckstrom, the man who discovered the little girl's body, recalled seeing on the entry road to the warehouse that morning.

When she saw Nick enter the room she inquired, "Did you and Pete have any luck with the Perv?"

"We're nailing the bastard on a bunch of stuff, but nothing related to this case." He took a seat next to her. "How are you doing?"

"Still looking for my needle in the haystack," She sighed before sipping her Diet Coke. "I'm adjusting the parameters and re-running and re-running."

"Have you seen Greggo?" Nick checked his watch.

Without moving her eyes off the computer screen she answered, "I think he left to grab something to eat."

"Thanks." He stood and pushed his chair in. "Jas, I know this assignment stinks, but it's necessary. Thanks for plugging away at it all morning and not complaining. It may seem insignificant, but sometimes those things crack the case too."

Finally she moved her eyes from the screen. "Thanks, Nick."

He nodded. "I'm stepping out for lunch. I'll check in with you when I return."

**Hughes Residence  
****12:48 p.m. **

Debra Hughes, an amicable forty-six year old woman with short brown hair and a stocky body, led the investigators down the steep set of stairs to her husband's workshop. "Watch your step on the last one."

Grissom and Greg moved to the center of the room and took in the atmosphere.

"Wow," Greg remarked as he noted every wall shelf, every counter and every corner of the room was chock full of supplies…paint cans, wood, tools, books…it was a veritable craft supply store in itself.

"My husband loves his hobby," She droned. "Too much if you ask me. Whenever he's not working his Sales job, he's down here crafting. Then there's the markets and the fairs on weekends…including Sunday's when he should be at church with me instead of conducting business." Shrugging she told the guests, "But he funds my silly indulgences so I never put my foot down."

"Everybody has their thing," Greg commented. "I'm into music. And Gris here…he loves bugs and books."

In a distant voice as he stared at the man's taxidermy bird collection suspended from the ceiling, Grissom remarked, "Birds eat bugs."

"And I eat birds." Greg set his kit down. "It's the circle of life, Gris. Don't hold it against our feathered friends."

"Speaking of food, would you gentlemen care for something?" While she waited for their answer she fixed the gold cross necklace around her neck so the clasp was no longer in the front.

Greg didn't hesitate. "I'd love a jumbo glass of water on the rocks if it wouldn't be too much trouble." The excess of caffeine and heat had him dehydrating rapidly.

"I'm fine thanks," Grissom replied.

"I'll be right back with your water, Mr. Sanders."

Once she was gone, Greg asked, "Hey, does being in a basement give you the willies since you were trapped and almost killed in one not too long ago?" Popping open his kit he grabbed a pair of gloves.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Grissom glanced up at the ceiling. "Especially since it's an older home and the beams of the ceiling are exposed like the ones in Harper House were. So let's not dawdle."

"Yeah…I know how you feel." Snapping on his gloves he explained, "Ever since being burned in the lab explosion, fires freak me out. I don't even like getting too close to fireplaces, you know like when you sit close and you can feel the heat on the hair of your arms…that tweaks me. One glimpse of a blazing fire makes my scars ache and reminds me of that excruciating pain." He shivered. "I hate it."

"So no romance in front of the fireplace for you and Tawny, huh?"

He grinned as he sifted through the wood piles. "I hope it's not a deal breaker for her. I've only known her while it's been summer in Vegas…not exactly fireplace weather, and neither of us had one at our places anyway. My parents' house has three fireplaces and a fire pit by the pool, but since my mom knows it makes me tense she doesn't light them when I'm there."

Flicking open a large plastic bag, he inserted his first wood sample. "Maybe I'll test the waters this visit by having Tawny relax me in front of a fire."

"I'm sure she'd be very good at desensitization therapy." With his flashlight, Grissom methodically inspected the first wall. "And since I'm sure you'd do just about anything for her, there's a good chance it would work."

Rolling his eyes he whined, "I'll run it by my PEAP counselor on Thursday."

Grissom laughed as he lifted a bottle of flammable paint thinner. "Nick's making sure you go, huh?"

"Rules are rules, Gris." Greg sealed the bag of his third wood sample. "And I don't want to get Nick in trouble. He's just doing his job right." Then he realized what he had just implied. "Not that you don't, it's just when you were a supervisor, you were always a little more focused on the cases than the supervision part of the job…not that I minded."

"I won't deny that." When he saw a photo album on the hobbyist's desk, he grabbed it. "That's why I love my new job…no supervisory responsibilities."

"Here you go, Mr. Sanders." Debra Hughes stopped midway down the stairs and held out the large Horizon High School plastic cup.

"Oh cool…" He hurried over and took the cup. "Thanks."

She darted up the stairs saying, "I'll be in the den watching Days of Our Lives and crocheting play mice for my cats. I'll check in during commercials."

Grissom and Greg stared at each other and Grissom remarked, "You're thinking the same thing aren't you. The husband is obsessed with birds and the wife has cats. Very telling."

After finishing a huge gulp of icy water Greg answered, "Actually no, I was wondering what was happening on Days of Our Lives because I used to catch it sometimes post-booty call at Tawny's. She likes it, not me." Placing his cup on the counter he added, "Some of the chicks on the show were hot so I didn't mind watching. Hell, as long as I got to spoon Tawny naked she could have put anything on TV and I wouldn't have minded."

Before Grissom could comment his cellphone rang. "It's Jas calling." He set the unopened photo album down and flipped open the phone. "Grissom."

"Hi, Grissom. Nick stepped out so I hope it's okay that I called you directly."

"Certainly."

Greg continued bagging samples and gulping water while Grissom spoke with Jas. Since it was almost one, he expected a call from Tawny anytime now. When she called at eleven she was in high spirits, having a blast buying things for the townhouse and bonding over babies with Sara.

When Grissom snapped the phone closed, he excitedly informed his co-worker, "Jas found a match. The vehicle belongs to a nineteen year old man named Tucker Mifflin. No priors. There's a North Vegas address listed on the vehicle registration. I'm going to call Vega and have him take me out there. You stay here and finish up."

"Uh, Gris…" Greg set his latest bagged sample on a work bench. "I'm not allowed to be out in the field alone. I'm a CSI I with a flagged file. Rules are rules per the boss."

Rolling his eyes, Grissom headed for the stairs. "I trust you can bag wood and take paint samples without direct supervision, Greg. And you're not alone because there's an officer outside the front door of the house at your beck and call." Midway up the stairs he leaned over the rail. "If anything goes wrong, I'll be the one asked to answer for it, not Nick. Does that make you feel better?"

"Much." He grabbed another bag. "And I really appreciate your confidence in me and the freedom."

"But don't do anything wrong, because Nick will still yell at you." Grissom retrieved his keys from the pocket of his khaki trousers. "He'll just yell at me too."

"That's okay." Greg laughed as he seized another piece of wood. "I'm used to it. Kind of starting to like it actually because I think having a big brother and some tough love might have helped me out a bit when I was younger. It may be hard to believe, but my mom coddled me and my dad let her."

Grissom did his best Brass impression. "Shocking!" And then hurried up the stairs.

**District Attorney's Office  
****1:17 p.m. **

Nick hurried down the hall towards Carrie's office with vases of flowers in both hands…one vase with a dozen red roses and the other filled with an assortment of colorful blooms. When he reached Maureen Brummel's desk he placed the vase of mixed flowers on the counter. "I'm really sorry I snapped at you, Maureen."

"Awww." The recently divorced fifty-two year old woman stood and gushed, "I haven't had a man give me flowers in decades. That's worth having you bite my head off, Nick. Feel free to do it monthly." Her eyes were as bright as the yellow of the daffodils in the arrangement. "Seriously…you really didn't have to…I already forgave you on the phone."

"Yeah, I did. Stokes men aren't raised to bark orders at women. My daddy would have my hide. Thanks for accepting my apology, Maureen." He peeked in the window and saw Carrie's office was empty. "She in court again?"

"No, she's been holed up in her office all day. She just went to grab something from the cafeteria." Maureen leaned in and sniffed her gift. "You should catch her and make her eat there…prevent her from inhaling it at her desk as usual."

"Sounds like a plan." He crossed the hall. "I'll just put these in her office first." When he approached her desk, he saw she had a bunch of work spread over it. One yellow note pad, with a ton of furious notes scribbled, caught his eye. And upon closer inspection he realized it was the information he had told her over the phone.

After carefully making a spot for the flower vase, he took a seat at her desk and picked up another piece of paper…an article printed off the internet with one paragraph in particular circled in red.

_When asked for his opinion on the Supreme Court's decision to reverse Stogner v. California, Justice William Stokes went on record stating, "California's abolition on the statute of limitations for sexual crimes against children clearly violated the Ex Post Facto clause of the United States Constitution. A law enacted after the expiration of a 'previously applicable limitations period' is a violation of the Constitution when it is applied to allow a previously time-barred prosecution. It is the same principle we saw here in our state with Carmell v. Texas, which attempted to permit uncorroborated testimony as the only requirement for prosecution, when the accuser is under age 14 at the time of sexual assault. I'm sure you are aware I voted to overturn that conviction based on the same violation of the Ex Post Facto clause. It is my responsibility to uphold the Constitution of this country, no matter who will benefit from its enforcement or who will be denied an opportunity to seek justice in the criminal courts of this nation. _

Holding the paper he reclined in Carrie's office chair and mumbled under his breath, "Rules are rules. No breaking, no bending. And if you do…be prepared to face the consequences of your actions."

"Nicky!" Carrie was shocked to see him sitting at her desk. "I didn't know you…" Then she saw the gorgeous flowers on her desk. "They're beautiful."

"And you're a sight for sore eyes."

Noting what he was reading, she hurried over, placing her Styrofoam take-out container on her desk and standing beside him. "I took notes so we didn't have to go back through the door if you didn't want to. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Smiling, he tossed the paper on her desk. "My dad opinion…ironic huh?" He shook his head. "It wouldn't have changed his mind if he knew I was one of the ones being denied an opportunity at justice. He's just enforcing the rules. You can't bend 'em when it suits you. That's how he raised me. He'd be a hypocrite if he thought otherwise. I respect him for that."

"No disrespect to your father but, a lot of people disagree with him and the Supreme Court's decision to overturn Stogner v. California for the simple fact that we only know now that children often don't realize they were abused and outcry until adulthood. I think of it the same as medical breakthroughs or DNA analysis…look at what we know now that we didn't know twenty-five years ago. Times change…we grow smarter, the statute of limitations changes need to be applied retroactively." Leaning on the edge of her desk she explained, "Even though you mentioned it to Catherine three years ago, I would argue that the outcry which would officially start the clock ticking for you would be today, because only today did you realize that you didn't have any responsibility."

"It's okay." He stood up and took her hand. "I don't need justice in the court system. All I want to know is if she's still doing it, and if she is, I want her ass behind bars."

A man's gruff voice interrupted them.

"Blake!" Clive Braxley darted into Carrie's office without an invitation. "Did you really tell…" Then he noticed she wasn't alone. "Oh…you must be Nick Stokes." Clive straightened to his full six foot four height. "Clive Braxley."

Nick shifted his eyes off Carrie and onto the asshole he had heard so much about. "I've been dying to meet you." Returning his gaze to his fiancée he sweetly said, "Honey, would you mind leaving us gentlemen alone for a moment?"

"Uh…" The glint in Nick's eye made her wary. "I don't…"

"Please." He prodded with a nod. "And shut the door, thanks."

Not wanting to emasculate her fiancé in front of Braxley, Carrie didn't argue the point and against her better judgment, walked around her desk, grabbed her lunch container and headed out. "I'll be with Maureen." With that she nervously shut the door.

Clive crossed his arms over his chest. "So I hear your father is on the Supreme Court of Texas. Must be nice having him in your corner. Yes, indeed…I bet that comes in handy."

"Yeah." Nick walked around the desk and faced Braxley. "Carrie told me your father is the mayor of a pig farm in Iowa." He flashed a smile. "Not that it matters much what our father's do, right? 'Cause I don't know about you but, the last favor I asked of my old man was to borrow his sedan to take my girlfriend to a high school dance…which he gladly agreed to let me do, **if **I earned the privilege. I bet it works the same in your family too."

Clive nodded and puffed out his chest a little more. "Is there a point to this conversation we're having?"

"I've got several as a matter of fact." Nick upped his drawl. "And since we're both simple folk from the Midwest, I figure we can handle things right quick." Looking up at Clive, Nick calmly informed him, "You watch what you say **to **and **about** Carrie. I **seriously **urge you to think before you speak. Don't **ever **trivialize her abuse story and don't **ever** imply that she was lucky to have had the experience. You treat her with the respect she has earned from being an outstanding attorney and a compassionate human being. If I hear otherwise…" He winked. "Expect me to settle the matter the way a good 'ol boy from Texas would. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Clive's mouth twitched with anger. "Am I free to go now, Mr. Stokes?"

"Yeah." Nick walked over and opened the door. "Happy trails."

**The Townhouse  
****1:42 p.m. **

"That's the last of it," Sara announced as she dropped the last two shopping bags in the center of the almost empty main room. "So many good memories here." Glancing around she remembered what it used to look like with all its framed butterflies and eclectic accessories.

Tawny handed Sara a bottle of cold water from one of the grocery bags. "Did you christen every room?"

"No, actually, just the master bedroom." She smiled. "We were a little conservative back in the old days. The French Maid costume would not have been on our radar screen." Patting her belly a smile found her face. "Back then if you had asked us if we would marry and have kids we would have laughed long and hard. Time changes things."

"Thank God!" Tawny giggled. "I love what time has done for me."

Grabbing the bag with the shower curtain and supplies Sara remarked, "Excellent shower pressure in the master bath. I always loved it…or maybe it was the after glow making me giddy."

_"Grissom…" Clad only in her lover's black button down shirt, Sara called out from the master bathroom. "You're out of soap. I don't want to go snooping trying to find some…" She teased, "…it's still too early in the relationship to happen upon something embarrassing in your drawers and cabinets." _

_"Don't be ridiculous, you can look," He stated when he arrived in the doorway dressed in his dark blue terrycloth robe. "What do you think I'm hiding?" _

_Laughing she shrugged. "Hemorrhoid cream? Wart remover? Jock itch spray?" _

_Considering he had all three on hand in case of emergency, he suggested, "On second thought, you get in the shower and I'll bring you a new bar of soap."_

_Dropping his shirt off her shoulders she stepped into the already steamy shower. "Your water pressure is so much better than mine." _

_With a fresh bar of soap in hand he commented, "We'll have to keep that in mind if we ever want to…" _

_"Want to what, Grissom?" She foisted her hand out to receive the soap. _

_"Want to buy you a new shower head for your apartment." He handed over the bar. "I'll uh…be in my office working." _

**Tucker Mifflin's Apartment  
****1:58 p.m. **

Vega knocked on the door. "Mr. Mifflin…I'm Detective Vega from the Las Vegas Police Department and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Grissom waited behind the two police officers backing Vega.

"Mr. Mifflin!" Vega shrugged. "Okay, he's either not here or not answering. Let's look for the car. Grissom wait by your truck."

**Hughes Residence  
****1:59 p.m. **

Debra Hughes delivered another large cup of ice water. "If you need to use the restroom, Mr. Sanders, there is one in the corner. My husband had it put in so he wouldn't have to waste time going upstairs."

"Thanks," He kindly replied before breaking into a huge yawn.

"You look beat." The circles under the young man's eyes were dark. Since he didn't have a wedding ring and had unkempt hair she assumed he was a hung-over party boy.

"Only got two hours sleep." He took a giant gulp of water. "My wife…" He lied because the woman had a plethora of religious symbols in her home and an ornate cross around her neck which made him concerned that a pregnant girlfriend might be offensive. The last thing he needed on top of his exhaustion was a lecture. "…she's expecting, and we had a little complication last night that sent us to the ER. It turned out to be nothing and the babies are fine."

"**Babies**." Debra's expression warmed.

"Just found out last night…twins." Saying it even to a total stranger felt exciting.

"What a wonderful blessing." Debra leaned against her husband's workbench. "Do you have names picked out?"

"Haleigh Ann for a girl and Dylan Hojem for a boy." He automatically explained, "Hojem…it's a Norwegian family name and my middle name."

"You'll need another boy name and another girl name just in case you have two of the same."

He smiled as he prepared to say the word again. "My wife and I spoke about that last night. We're going to find out the sex of the babies at the twenty week ultrasound and if we need another name we'll pick it then. For right now, we're just going to imagine there's one of each."

"Sorry for being so nosy." Debra confessed, "I'm a little lonely now that my nest is empty."

"I don't mind, it's passing the time and keeping me awake." Feeling a little sappy he said, "And truthfully, I like talking about it."

"How long have you and your wife been married?"

He continued the lie. "A little over a year. It was love at first sight."

Debra was pleased with the answer. "You made a spiritual connection."

"Yes…she was a heavenly sight." He grinned, remembering Tawny covered in gold glitter wearing her feathered g-string.

"Did you have a large wedding?" Debra sighed. "My first husband and I had a beautiful wedding. God rest his soul."

"We kept it pretty small." Now he was thinking of the future. "Just our friends and my folks and some of their friends. My wife doesn't have any surviving family." And while he continued working, he dove further into the fantasy. "Tawny…that's my wife's name…she looked amazing. She wore a flowing white dress and had her hair piled up real fancy with this delicate veil with fresh flowers in it. And when I first saw her she took my breath away." His voice drenched with love he remarked, "She still does every day."

"It's rare to find such a commitment nowadays." Debra groaned, thinking of the ills of society. "Kids today sleep around, live together, and have babies outside of marriage. If people do get married, they get divorced sixty percent of the time. It's all such a shame and not the way God intended."

Suddenly feeling guilty for lying, Greg announced, "I think I will use your restroom." He yanked off his gloves and tossed them on the counter.

Once inside the small bathroom, Greg took care of business quickly and then moved to the pedestal sink to wash his hands and splash cold water on his pale and exhausted-looking face. Thankfully he only had about another hour to go there and then he envisioned being home asleep in his comfy bed.

After turning off the light, Greg emerged from the bathroom and when he did, he was surprised to see a muscular young man with tousled brown hair, dressed in black jeans, a gray t-shirt and black workboots, standing in the center of the room talking to Debra Hughes. Greg cleared his throat.

"Mr. Sanders, this is my son," Debra announced. "He was stopping by on his lunch break from work, saw the police car and panicked thinking I was hurt. He's the one that left my nest empty and he's the one that doesn't come around for lunch enough."

The young man clutched his chest as he panted. "Scared the crap out of me until the police officer at the door told me she was okay."

Greg flashed a smile. "Totally understandable. I'm close with my mom too." He moved over to the workbench to continue bottling paint samples. "While both of you are here, do you know of anyone who has had access to this workshop? Does anyone borrow it or rent it out?" Once again he yawned mercilessly and blinked to focus on the task at hand.

"No, I can't think of anyone," Debra immediately replied. "My husband is very protective of his work area. Besides him, the only other people allowed down here are me and Tucker."

"Tucker?" Exhaustion making him a little slow on the uptake, Greg blurted, "That's the name of our suspect…" Before he could fully turn around, he was slammed against the wall and his gun was ripped from his holster. Finally, when he was kicked to the floor, his brain caught up. "Don't shoot!" On his hands and knees with his back to the gunman he was completely vulnerable.

"Don't move!" Tucker backed away holding the gun firmly in his right hand.

"My God, Tucker, what are you doing!" Debra shouted. "He's with the police department; he's not here to hurt me! Stop it right now!"

"Stay out of it, Mom." Tucker pointed the gun at Greg's back.

Remaining still as asked, Greg said in a shaky voice, "Tucker…I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not a cop, I'm a forensic scientist with the crime lab and I'm just here collecting paint samples. I'm not here to do anything to your mom." Although he suspected that was not what Tucker was worried about. "I'm not going to hurt or arrest anyone."

His hand was steady as he wielded the weapon. "I'm not worried about my mother's ass, I'm worried about mine! You're here for me. You figured it out."

"Tucker…Honey…" Her whole body trembling, Debra stepped forward and in confusion asked the questions that popped in her head. "Did you stop taking your meds? Why aren't you at work?"

"Stay away!" He snarled. "I don't live here anymore and you can't tell me what to do. And I don't have a job since last week."

Frantic, she tried again. "Honey, there's a policeman upstairs, he's going to come down and arrest you if he sees you holding that gun." Tears began streaming down her cheeks when she realized he was unmedicated and out of control. It was her biggest fear since he had moved out on his own three months ago. "It will be like when you had trouble in high school. You don't want that again do you? Tucker, listen to Mom. I love you, Honey. Let me help you. You know I can help."

"You can't help me this time, Mom. It's too late, that's why he's here. He knows." The young man laughed. "But don't worry…the cop's not coming. He wouldn't let me in the house so I went around the corner, grabbed a shovel from the garden and bashed him over the head with it. Yeah…I took care of him." Briefly he smiled. "It's getting easier."

"Dear God in Heaven…" Debra's hand rushed to her mouth as tears poured down her face. "Did you kill him? How could…"

Greg fought the scream rising within and tried to negotiate. "Tucker…if you put the gun down and…"

"SHUT UP!" He gripped the pistol tighter.

Clamping his mouth tight, Greg fought the urge to run because there was nowhere to go. He was in the far corner of the basement and Tucker and his mom were in the direct path to the stairs. Although there were tools worthy of weapons in the room, they were on the opposite side. With the cop unconscious or possibly dead and no one else around on the large secluded property, screaming wouldn't help. So he did his best to stay put and quiet while waiting for an opportunity.

"What did you do to make you so scared of the police? Have you hidden drugs here?" Debra asked in a lost voice. "Did you…" Then she recalled the reason the investigators said they were here. "Tucker?" Her heart breaking she found the courage to say the words. "Did you…rape and kill that little girl?" She saw the answer in his eyes and shouted, "My God, why? WHY!"

"Because I wanted her," He snarled in an inhuman voice. "From the moment I saw her at the craft show. She wanted me too. She flirted with me."

When Debra heard his answer and saw her son's pleasure she gasped and folded her hands. "God forgive me for letting this…"

"Stop talking!" His body twitched with discomfort. "And stop praying because it's a friggin waste of time! If your prayers were **ever **answered we wouldn't be in this situation now would we, Mom! WOULD WE! Wouldn't my brain be re-wired by now if ANY of your god damn prayers were ever answered?"

Unable to control the tension in his body, Greg began to rock on his hands and knees while desperately trying to think of the right thing to say or the right thing to do.

"Tucker…" Debra took another step forward. "You need to turn yourself in and ask for forgiveness."

"Let's try an experiment." Tucker pointed the gun at his mother. "Start praying that I won't shoot you and we'll see if works."

The cold calculated words incited a gasp out of Greg's mouth. If the guy was willing to shoot a mother who loved him, and had already raped and killed an innocent girl, he knew he didn't stand a chance. In that moment of realization, his bravery evaporated and fear consumed him.

Tucker screamed in the other direction. "What about you, cop! Are you a religious man?" When he didn't get a response he screamed, "Answer me!"

Wincing from the tension, Greg expelled the word. "No."

Tucker manically quizzed. "Do you go to church!"

"Never been," Greg replied in between sharp inhales of oxygen. "Except for weddings."

Surprised by the answer Tucker snapped, "Your mom didn't make you put on your Sunday best and sit besides her smiling in the pew?"

The mention of his mother triggered Greg to think of everything at stake…Tawny, the babies, his family. Until now he had successfully blocked it to focus on the crisis. "Please don't…" He struggled to push them out of his mind again so he could stay in the moment. "Can't we…"

"Answer my friggin' question!" Picking up a piece of wood Tucker hurtled it against the wall making both of his captives shriek and amusing him thoroughly.

Petrified of non-compliance, Greg coughed up an answer. "No…my parents never took me to church."

"So, Jesus doesn't know your name." Tucker burst out laughing and looked at his mom. "Mom, tell him where's he going, if I shoot him. Tell him he's **gonna**** burn in the eternal hellfire **for not accepting the Lord as his personal savior."

Quaking in her shoes Debra thought of the kind man in the corner of the room and his pregnant wife. "He'll be fine…" Relying on her faith and hoping to reassure the terrified man, she boldly declared in between sobs "Because I'm praying for him too."

"Well you better **stop **because you're messing up my experiment!" Tucker readied the pistol. "Because I want to see who gets saved…the churched or the un-churched. Start praying mom and…" He shouted in the opposite direction. "And what's your name?"

"Greg," He squeaked while battling for control of his emotions and breathing.

"So, Mom's praying and Greg isn't." Tucker took a second to make sure the weapon's safety was off. "I wonder who will bleed first?"

The word_ first_ made Greg's heart pound like a sledgehammer against his chest. _First _implied there would be more than one.

Devastated, Debra clasped her hands together and started walking towards the stairs.

"Are you praying, Mom!" Tucker goaded her, "Come on, let me hear it! Can I get an AMEN!"

"Heavenly Father, please hear my prayer and help me get through to my son." When she reached the bottom of the stairwell and hesitated to take the first step. "Please let him see that I love him and want to help him. And that you love him and will forgive him if he seeks forgiveness."

"Does it feel like it's working, Mom?" Tucker laughed. "Because I don't think it is. I'm still pointing the gun and I'm still itching to pull the trigger." He turned to his other captive. "What about you, Greg? Feeling lucky over there? What are you doing to pass the time since you're not praying? Huh? Answer me!"

"Pl…" Greg gulped for air as his tears pelted the concrete floor below. "Please don't…do this. Let's…" Near hyperventilation he panted harder as he thought of Tawny and his mother in the aftermath of his death…about the babies he'd never see…and how he once selfishly made a choice to die when all he wanted to do now was live. "Please…" His fingernails dug into the concrete. "Let me…help you."

"How thehell are you going to help me?" Tucker raged. "I raped and killed a little girl! There's no pill to fix me!" Out of the corner of his eye he watched his mother take the first step. "I'm already planning on doing it again," He salivated. "Her name is McKenna and she's sweeter than the last one."

"No…" Greg's breathing quickened as his body's spasms intensified. "No…" Then, the fear of the psychotic man wielding a gun behind him finally maxed out his coping ability.

Tucker watched his mother, hands folded and useless prayers flying from her mouth, take another two stairs and roared, "No one can help me! Not you, not a shrink and certainly not the Lord." Laughter overcame him as he watched the man crumbling on the floor in front of him. "I know you've never been to church, Greg, but doesn't **common sense** tell you that if god didn't help sweet, pretty, little Brittany when was I killing her, he's not gonna waste his time on me…or** you**."

**Tucker Mifflin's Apartment  
****2:14 p.m. **

After a search for the car turned up nothing, Grissom was given permission to return to the exterior of the apartment.

While Vega stood nearby on his cellphone, Grissom shone his flashlight through a slightly open kitchen window. Empty pizza boxes, take out food containers and fast food wrappers littered the counter and the small table in the corner of the pigsty.

"See anything?" Vega probed.

"Just a mess." Grissom took another look. As he guided the beam of his flashlight over the floor, he saw a large plastic cup on its side. The logo looked familiar but he couldn't make out the words. Why did the logo look familiar he asked himself. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to get a better look.

"Grissom, what the hell are you doing?" Vega shouted as he saw him throw open the window and climb through. "We don't have a warrant!"

In a panic, Grissom returned to the window with the cup labeled Horizon High School…an exact match of the cup Greg was drinking from earlier. "Check in with the officer at the Hughes residence. Send backup out there right now! I'll meet you out front." He grabbed his cellphone and punched in Greg's number while he raced through the apartment. When he reached the living room his heart stopped when he saw several craft books on the couch, the topic all the same…**dollhouses.**

One ring.

"Greg, pick up the phone."

Two rings.

He reasoned with his gut, trying to convince thatit was wrong this time.

Three rings.

_You have reached the voicemail of Greg Sanders…_

Frantic, Grissom hit the number 1 to bypass the message. "Greg, get out of the house and call me. That's the right house and the suspect is at large." He slapped the phone shut and raced to the front door. "Anything!" He called out to Vega while he paged Greg.

Running to his car Vega yelled his reply. "Our guy isn't answering his radio."

"Come on, Greg!" Grissom yelled at his silent cellphone while running for his Tahoe. "You're talking to Tawny that's why you didn't answer your phone." He jumped behind the wheel. "You'll answer this page. I know you will….I know you will…answer it Greg." He threw the car into drive and followed Vega. "Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it…"

He pressed a little harder on the gas while knowing he was at least twenty minutes away and the cops would get there first. Swallowing hard he heard words from this morning's meeting in his head…

_"Nick is your Supervisor, but I have the ultimate say on how the case is handled. If I tell you something is priority, you take it as Gospel. If you need to schedule a vacation day, you talk to Nick…just don't ask for any vacation until this case is solved." _

_Nick clarified, "So, my people are still my responsibility, but you just get to use them as you see fit, when you see fit, and without consulting me. You've commandeered me and my team. You say jump, we say how high." _

_"Exactly…being the Master has its privileges." _

Gripping the steering wheel, Grissom chanted his mantra. "Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it…" His mind drifted again…

_"Uh Gris…the boss told me I'm not allowed in the field today." _

_"Maxed out on overtime?" _

_"No uh…he thinks I'm maxed out from lack of sleep and an excess of stress." He held up his hands. "I'm not breaking the boss man's rules and getting written up." _

_"I'm the Master Criminalist, remember? I'm commandeering you and he can't stop me. Now get your kit and your firearm and meet me at my Tahoe."_

_"Yes, Master!" _

"Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it!"

_"Uh, Gris…I'm not allowed to be out in the field alone. I'm a CSI I with a flagged file. Rules are rules per the boss." _

_"I trust you can bag wood and take paint samples without direct supervision, Greg. And you're not alone because there's an officer outside the front door of the house at your beck and call." _

"Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it!"

Grissom chanted his mantra for five full minutes but his phone didn't ring and his pager didn't beep.

_"Rules are rules, Gris. And I don't want to get Nick in trouble. He's just doing his job right. Not that you don't, it's just you were always a little more focused on the cases than the supervision part of the job." _

_"I won't deny that. That's why I love my new job…no supervisory responsibilities." _

The silence in the truck made it easy to hear the echo of Greg's words…

_"We get married, have our babies and live happily ever after." _

When his cellphone blared, Grissom lunged to answer it. Unfortunately it wasn't Greg, it was Vega was calling. "Go ahead," Grissom pleaded as his pulse continued to rise.

"First squad car just reported in. Debra Hughes was found running down the road with a gun shot to her left shoulder. Tucker Mifflin is her son from a previous marriage."

His heart in his throat Grissom forced the question, "And Greg?"

"Right before Mrs. Hughes attempted to flee she saw Greg pass out. As she fled, her son screamed for her to tell everyone to stay away or he'll torch the place. It's FUBAR, Grissom. I've called a hostage situation."

"My God…he's got more than enough fuel down there to blow the place!" Grissom shouted, "You take that threat seriously. Every inch of that place has a stash of wood or combustibles. And the perp doesn't have a problem killing innocent little girls or shooting his mother so I don't doubt the veracity of his threat!"

"I've got everybody coming…police, snipers, bomb squad, and fire department."

Grissom heard Greg's voice in his head…

_"Yeah…I know how you feel. Ever since being burned in the lab explosion, fires freak me out. I don't even like getting too close to fireplaces, you know like when you sit close and you can feel the heat on the hair of your arms? One glimpse of a blazing fire makes my scars ache and reminds me of that excruciating pain." _

In shock, Grissom dropped his cellphone into his lap. That's when his own words replayed in his head.

**_"If anything goes wrong, I'll be the one asked to answer for it, not Nick._**

As he floored the gas, Grissom despondently whispered, "What have I done?"

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 15

**Teaser:** There's plenty of guilt to go around.

**Posting:** Tuesday (due to the extended holiday weekend)

Thanks for reading and commenting,

Maggs


	15. Losing It Part 15

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 86: Losing It – Part 15**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****The Townhouse  
****2:30 p.m. **

Tawny stood in the second bedroom with Sara displaying a smile as sunny as the summer day outside. "This will be perfect for the nursery." Closing her eyes she easily pictured Greg standing in between the babies' cribs singing the sweetest bedtime lullaby. In the middle of the song she imagined herself walking over to stand beside him and the fantasy was so real she could feel his arms encircling her waist while his velvet voice continued to fill the room. _I love you, Greg_, she whispered while he crooned, and his embrace tightened ever so slightly. As the song ended she glanced down to find Haleigh and Dylan had drifted off to peaceful slumber and when she turned to catch her husband's eyes, she realized she had just fallen a little deeper in love with the man she married. _So much and forever,_ he murmured while bringing his lips to hers for a tender kiss. _So much and forever…_

"Tawny! You were a million miles away just now," Sara teased as she opened the window blinds. "This room gets very nice sunlight in the afternoon. It will be really cheery for the babies. Have you thought of a nursery theme?"

"Yes, but they all have to be scrapped because they were for** one** baby…either boy or girl." Patting her belly she excitedly said, "Now we need a twin theme. But we'll wait until we know the sexes of the babies. I can pretty much do whatever I want, because Greg's only requirements for decorating the room are that it's bright, colorful and stimulating."

"No shock there. You know…you could just tack a bunch of his shirts on the wall and call it a day." Chuckling, Sara motioned for Tawny to follow her. "But in case you want something a little more traditional, I brought all my nursery decorating books with me."

"Awesome!" Tawny hurried out of the room. "But before we do that…I want your opinion on something else. You know the saying…first comes love, then comes marriage…"

"Yes."

Together they walked down the hall and back to the living room where all the bags were.

"I know it's jumping the gun but…" Tawny raced over to her oversized pink and black striped tote bag. "…I couldn't help it after Greg came so close to popping the question last night. When you were browsing the bookstore, I made a purchase." She produced two bridal magazines and then asked with trepidation, "Do you think it's bad luck to look for a dress before he asks me?"

"No, I knew of girls in college who picked out their dresses before they even had a man." Sara plopped on Gil's old couch that they had left there when she banned it from the new house. "Besides, I heard what Greg said in the ER about being interrupted proposing to you…interrupted by **me.** Ugh…I feel so guilty about that now. The only reason you're not engaged today is because I came knocking with my petty problem."

"Don't sweat it, Sis." Tawny took a seat next to Sara and handed over one magazine and kept one for her. "Greg didn't have a ring and we were sweaty and naked. After the moment passed he would have kicked himself for not holding out for country potatoes."

"Country potatoes?" She knew there had to be a long story behind that.

"It's a long story," Tawny giggled as she flipped open the magazine and started dreaming. "Do you think it's okay that I wear white even though I'm an ex-stripper having a shotgun wedding because I'm accidentally pregnant with twins?"

"I think you can wear whatever color gown you want." Sara laughed as she flipped pages. "I also think you could wear a potato sack and Greg would drool."

Thrilled to finally be planning the wedding of her dreams, Tawny relaxed into the sofa cushions. "We've done everything else backwards and unconventional, so it's really important to me that this be as traditional as possible."

"I know exactly how you feel." Stunned by the commonality, Sara looked up from her page. "That's how I felt about the baby…it was our one shot at being semi-normal."

"Why do you think that's important to us?"

"I'm sure it's because we've had abnormal lives." Sara smiled at her friend. "Maybe that's why I found enigmatic Gil attractive and you found quirky Greg appealing…we're so used to abnormal they were comfortable."

"HA!" Tawny folded over the corner of a page. "Finally the mystery is solved!" She held up the magazine and displayed the first dress under consideration. "This is a possibility."

"I give it a thumbs up."

"But it's not** the** dress." Tawny continued her hunt for the perfect wedding gown. "I want it to be long, flowing and very unique…something that will really blow him away!"

**Grissom's Tahoe**

**2:35 p.m. **

The thought of Greg being blown away by a gunshot or an explosion consumed Grissom as he held his cellphone to his ear and waited for Brass to answer.

"What the hell happened!" Brass barked into the phone. "I just got the call and I'm on my way to the scene."

"I screwed up, Jim." Regret assaulted him as he spoke. "I left Greg at the house. I didn't think there was a risk…there was a cop guarding the entrance and the house was locked up tight. It's Holly all over again only this time…I'm the one who made the error in judgment."

"And just like before I'm the supervisor of the person who made the error in judgment." Frustration and concern for both Greg and Gil tempered his voice. "But you didn't leave on personal business, right?"

"No, I was at the suspect's apartment." The differentiation didn't alleviate his remorse. "Jim…I never imagined this could happen. I would have left anyone there." He drove as if he were on automatic pilot.

"Would you have left Sara?" Brass pointedly asked.

Grissom gulped and answered it honestly. "Yes." Although he was horrified that Greg was in the dire situation, the thought that his pregnant wife could be in his place decimated him.

"I believe you." A tortured groan preceded Brass's next statement. "If it was Sara or Nick you wouldn't be culpable. But you left Greg…a rookie with a flagged personnel file who is not permitted in the field unsupervised. Did Greg know he wasn't supposed to be there alone?"

"Yes." Grissom drove while he blamed himself repeatedly.

"And Nick was okay with this?" He asked in disbelief as he continued to fulfill his role as Assistant Director and get to the bottom line.

"No…I didn't contact Nick before I left the scene." Grissom turned the wheel and pressed on with his confession, "But Jim, there's something else you should know…Greg was under direct orders from Nick to stay out of the field today because he was working on two hours sleep and was under duress."

"You KNEW that?" Brass yelled into the phone. "And Sanders disobeyed a direct order from his supervisor?"

"No…I overrode Nick's order and Greg complied when I reminded him that I outrank Nick. I'm the only one accountable, Jim." Grissom gripped his phone tighter as his guilty conscience powered his words. "Greg looked fine, he was eager to go. It was his research that gave us the lead. He wanted to solve the case and I was anxious for him to get the chance. When I left him…" His voice cracked. "When I left him he said he was grateful for the freedom and my confidence in him. Neither of us were worried."

"It doesn't matter what Greg thought. **You** broke with procedure." Stunned by the latest revelation Brass asked, "Is there anything else I should know, Gil?"

Only two words came to mind and he said them even though he knew they wouldn't help matters. "I'm sorry."

"Let's hope you don't have to say that to Tawny."

The thought shook Grissom to the core.

"Does Nick know?"

"Not yet," He managed to choke out while envisioning Tawny's devastation. "I…I was calling him next."

"No…I'm making that call. What about Tawny?"

"She's with Sara," Grissom informed him. "They should be at the townhouse. I'm thinking we shouldn't alarm her because of the pregnancy. There's no TV or radio at the townhouse. If Sara can keep her there…"

"You handle that one. I'll make all the other calls."

**Nick's Tahoe  
****2:40 p.m. **

His spirit renewed from spending his lunch hour with Carrie, Nick sat behind the wheel of his Tahoe singing along with the tune on the radio. It was a welcome respite from the tension of the day and a pleasant way to pass the time as he returned to the Brandt residence to rendezvous with Pete and close out the scene.

Between the Dollhouse case, a sudden fear for McKenna's life, the Peeping incident at Wendy's last night, his ever mounting pile of responsibilities, and the untimely unfolding of his childhood trauma, Nick knew he was maxed out. So, in an uncharacteristic admission, he confessed to Carrie over lunch that he never felt more stressed in his life, that every time he seemed to make a dent in relieving some pressure, another wave came crashing trying to drown him.

At the end of the hour, Carrie urged him to ask Jim for some personal time off because she knew from experience that psychological breakthroughs left people overemotional and unbalanced for a period of time. She was worried if he was confronted with one more stressor before having some time to deal with what was already on his plate, he might lose it. She was concerned it could happen at work again and further damage his reputation. But most of all she wanted him to have a break because she knew he was coming apart at the seams and needed time to regroup.

Even though he had seven weeks leave accumulated, time off wasn't an option. He informed his fretful fiancée there was too much going on and reminded her he had just taken a couple of days in July when they went to Dallas. He assured her he wasn't a workaholic…even though he worked nearly seventy hours a week. And he pointed out that Carrie was hardly one to talk, since she worked at least seventy-five per week if he counted the hours she spent working at home. He used the previous night as an example…she was up working at Wendy's kitchen table at two in the morning.

So, the lunch ended with the two stubborn mules, both mentally and physically exhausted, kissing in the parking lot and hoofing it back to work.

Upon hearing his cellphone, Nick lowered the volume on the radio and answered the call. "Stokes."

"Nick…it's Jim. Where are you?"

"In my truck around the corner from a crime scene I'm expected at. Why? You got something new for me?"

"Pull over and park it while we chat."

He grinned as he taunted, "Listen to you stressing the safety rules. What's with the sudden change? Is it because you were whipped into shape last night, Boss?" He pulled over to the side of the road and threw the truck into park. "Okay, I'm off the road."

"I know you've been stressed out lately with this case and your niece…"

Shaking his head Nick replied, "Jim, I know it looked really bad for the department and I'm sorry. I swear it won't happen again and if it does I will…"

"Nick!" He snapped to get his attention. "Hold up…I'm not reprimanding you."

"Oh." He shifted nervously in his seat. "What's going on, Jim? You sound edgy."

"We have a situation."

"A situation?" He knew the phrase was most commonly used for disasters.

"Promise me you'll hold it together."

"Uh…" A wave of apprehension surged through him. He knew it couldn't be Carrie because he just left her. "Okay, Jim. I promise." He said it, but his confidence was weak.

"It's Greg…he's being held hostage."

"What!" Nick gripped the steering wheel with one hand and the phone with the other. "Jas said he went to grab some lunch. Was he caught in the middle of something? Where is he? How bad does it look? Tell me where he is and I'm there."

"He wasn't caught in the middle of something, he was processing a scene."

"But…" The words didn't compute. "He was processing a scene? How…? I don't understand, I ordered him to stay in the lab." Stunned, he fell speechless.

"Grissom took him out and when he got another call, he left Greg with a guard at the door. The cop was knocked out with a shovel and is in the ER, still unconscious."

"But…Grissom knows Greg can't be…" His fingers raced through his hair and his hand remained holding his head. "How bad is it, Jim?"

"I won't lie to you…it's bad…he's in the basement with Brittany Thomas' killer…who according to his mother is prone to psychosis when off his meds…which he stopped taking. The guy is six feet and two hundred pounds. The place is loaded with flammables and the killer is threatening to blow it if we make a move."

Nick sat staring out the windshield and into the nightmare playing out in his mind. "Jas told me he went to grab something for lunch. I didn't follow up. If I had called him instead of going to lunch with Carrie I would have known and yanked him out of the field. How could I let this happen? What about Tawny and the babies…he just found out he's having twins. No, no…this can **not** be happening!"

"Nick…"

Beating his fist on the steering wheel he yelled. "I can't believe he left him there! This is Holly all over again. Didn't he learn anything from that! Warrick never would have left Greg there because he learned something from Holly's death. I **never **should have agreed to this arrangement. It's bullshit!" Anger knotted inside him. "My people are **my** responsibility and when I let Grissom borrow them I **never** expected he'd put any of them in jeopardy. Greg is **my** responsibility! Mine! I ordered him not to go in the field."

"People don't always do what you want or what's best for them, Nick."

Devastated, he rambled, "You don't understand, Jim…you don't understand. I **promised **Tawny he wouldn't be in the field today. She's pregnant…they're not even married yet. Who's going to take care of her if…no, it can't happen." Reality came crashing down hard. "I **promised** Tawny I'd look out for him and now you're telling me he's in grave danger. I gave her my word, Jim." Distraught, he kept pushing. "How can I be responsible for my team members when Grissom has the power to take them and put them at risk? How do I operate under those conditions? Losing Greg is** not** an option. Do you hear me? It's not an option! Whatever it takes…I'll trade places, I'll…"

"Nick!" Brass shouted. "There's no time for the blame game and Grissom has it covered, believe me. I don't need desperate pleas, I need **rational **thinking. Work on that for me!" Realizing he wasn't helping matters he relaxed his tone. "Look…you pull seventy hours a week. You're allowed to take a break and leave the building. It's okay to go out and meet your girl for lunch. I'm your boss and I'm telling you, you've done nothing wrong in my eyes…nothing. And I'm ordering you to stop beating yourself up ASAP. You've been operating under a chain of command since you were a Boy Scout. Grissom had the last word here, **not you** and Greg listened because he's supposed to listen to the highest authority, not because you weren't clear. You didn't break your promise to Tawny. But you're losing it when you promised me you'd hold it together. So pull it together **right now.**"

The absolution and the forceful order worked like a magic spell and a second later he replied like a dutiful son, "Yes, Sir," while compacting his emotions and tucking them away. "Yes, Sir. Understood," He repeated to reinforce the behavior while he readied his fingers at the GPS. "Give me the location and I'll meet you there."

**The Townhouse  
****2:42 p.m. **

"OH!" Tawny sat straight up and thrust the bridal magazine at Sara. "This is it! It's perfect! I'll feel like a princess in it for sure. And it's so unique because of the intricate colored jewels. I think Greg will love it, don't you?" She wrinkled her nose. "And it's ivory so I won't feel like a total hypocrite."

Sara took the magazine and read the description, "An ivory duchess satin gown with a beautiful floral crystal jeweled bodice, thin beaded straps, a box pleated skirt and a chapel train." She stared at the picture and envisioned Tawny in it. "I think you're absolutely right." Sara glanced over at her friend's radiant face. "It's perfect. I can picture Cinderella getting married in it surrounded by chirping birds."

"That's so me!" She took possession of the magazine again to stare and dream. "What do you think about a tiara with a delicate veil?"

"I think it will accent the silver thread in the straps very nicely and Greg will love it because he's always calling you Princess." Sara beamed with her friend. "I'm so happy for you, Tawny, and for Greg. I know things started off so crazy for you, but now everything is working out and…" The ring of her cellphone put the heartfelt conversation on pause. "Hold that thought." She got up and crossed the room to grab the ringing phone out of her purse.

While Sara took her call, Tawny carefully ripped the page out of the magazine and started visualizing the ceremony.

When Sara pulled her phone out of her purse she saw it was Gil and broke into a blissful smile. "Hey there, Daddy-O," She answered, ready to discuss their joyous news. "Are you…"

"Sara! Are you with Tawny at the townhouse?"

"Uh huh." She noted his tone was edgy. "What's going on?"

"Don't react to what I'm saying. I need you to take this call someplace private without raising Tawny's suspicions."

"Um…okay." While her own suspicions rose, Sara crossed the room and headed for the master bath. Covering the receiver she said, "Do you mind? It's Gil and we need to gush about the baby for five."

"Don't worry about me," She assured her pal. "I'll be here daydreaming. I think I'll rent doves. Do you think that would be nice?"

"I love it." With that, Sara hustled down the hall to the master bedroom and locked herself in the adjoining bath. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"I have no time to make it sound better." One jagged breath later he dropped the bomb. "Greg's being held hostage by Brittany Thomas's killer. He has him at gun point in a basement workshop of his parents' home. He's threatening to blow the place if we attempt to rescue Greg and he can pull it off because the basement is full of chemicals and wood."

Her knees going weak, Sara took a seat on the lid of the toilet. "No…this can't…"

"I need you to keep Tawny in the townhouse because she won't have access to the news there."

"How…" Bringing her trembling hand to her forehead she tried to process the devastating news. "Who was with him?"

"I was."

"And you got out but he didn't? What happened? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"I'm fine, but Sara I need to tell…"

"I don't understand…" Her whole body quaked as she thought of Tawny sitting in the living room planning her future with Greg. "He must have been exhausted after last night. I should have offered to work for him today. He was such a good friend to me last night. Oh god…if it weren't for me interrupting, he and Tawny would be engaged. I'm…"

"Sara! There's something you need to know…that I need to confess." He spoke in a shameful whisper. "I left him alone at the scene with a cop at the door. Tucker Mifflin, Brittany's killer, overpowered the guard, shot his mother and took Greg hostage."

Confused she stated, "Greg can't work alone in the field he's a rookie with a flagged file. Everyone knows that. You know…"

"I knew it…I just didn't follow the guideline." His sigh lingered and then he released the words gnawing at his soul, "It's my fault and I'll never forgive myself if..."

Hormonal and devastated her eyes started to well. "Tawny is sitting in the living room reading a bridal magazine planning her dream wedding."

"Greg showed me a photo of the ring he's buying her." His voice ached with emotion. "It's in his back pocket right now. My god Sara…I don't how I…"

"He's got to make it out."

"He will….he has to…I'll do whatever it takes."

Holding her stomach she broken heartedly asked, "How can I go back out there and pretend nothing's wrong?"

"Do it for the babies, Sara. Focus on that." In the voice of a broken man he informed her, "Sara, I'm at the scene I have to go"

"Call me," She whimpered.

"As soon as I have something to tell."

"I…I love you, Gil."

"Even if…"

"Yes." Her tears finally spilled. "But don't let that happen. Please don't." When she heard the click signaling the call's end, she turned on the bathroom faucet and let it run with her tears.

**Command Center  
****2:49 p.m.**

When Grissom parked his Tahoe on the dirt road leading to the Hughes residence he was relieved to see a Command Center already formed and a buzz of activity. In just under thirty minutes, Fire, EMT and Bomb Squad personnel were mobilized and waiting for orders.

"Gil!" Brass called out. "I just got here a few minutes ago. Status is unchanged. I'll brief you as soon as Nick, Warrick and Catherine arrive." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Warrick's Mazda parking down the road.

Grissom continued to survey the scene. "This is as close as they're letting us?"

"Because of the flammables." Brass saw Nick's Tahoe racing down the road. "Tread cautiously with Nick because he's on edge. Hell, he was before this even happened and now he's understandably pissed off that you overrode his direct orders and put his man in jeopardy. He talked to Tawny earlier today and promised her that Greg wouldn't be in the field today because he wasn't up to par."

Nodding, Grissom somberly stated, "I deserve whatever he gives me."

Warrick and Catherine hurried to meet up with Brass and Grissom. "Any news?" Catherine hastily inquired, "Preferably good."

Warrick remained quiet as he dealt with old feelings of regret and guilt over Holly's death.

"Status is unchanged, "Brass reported as he pointed down the road. "Let's wait for Nick."

As Nick hustled down the dirt road he saw Grissom in the distance. Although he thought he had cooled down in the truck during the drive, now that he saw him he felt his anger ignite. "Tell me good news…please," He begged when he reached the group, careful to stand in between Brass and Warrick and as far away from Grissom as possible.

"Nothing new, Nick," Brass informed him. "That's as good as it gets right now. Let's go through what I've learned…Mifflin picked up the house phone when the chief called and made it immediately clear that he wanted no further contact and any attempt to contact him or breach the house would cost Greg his life."

"What does he want?" Nick probed. "Money? Immunity?"

"He doesn't want anything," Brass told them. "Nothing…at least not so far. Before passing out from her gunshot wound, the mother told the officers her son went off his meds and he's out of control. It's happened before and he went up and down phasing in and out of paranoia and psychosis."

"Great…just great," Catherine lamented. "So we're dealing with a guy who can cycle through seventeen moods an hour."

"No…" Nick reminded her. "**Greg **is dealing with the guy. We're sitting out here with our hands tied waiting for the psycho bastard to decide if Greg lives or dies!"

When he saw the pain in Nick's eyes, Grissom decided it was time to take the blame. "Nicky…"

"Don't!" Nick barked as he took a step back. "Save it because anything you say right now isn't going to help and it's just going to set me off."

Brass held up his hands. "We need to focus on Greg not…"

Warrick broke his silence. "Well I want to know. I **need** to know. What were you thinking, Gris? The **only **thing we have from Holly's death is the lesson we took away. This happening makes her death even more meaningless. This is the same conversation we had after Harper House. The way it's supposed to be is people first, case second."

"I'll tell you what the problem is," Nick turned to Warrick breathing fire. "He treats people like equipment. To him they're just another thing used to solve a case and solving the case is all that matters." Returning his glare to Grissom he snarled, "Well, a print brush is a print brush on any day of the week, but people **aren't.** Today Greg was exhausted and stressed. He had **no **business being in the field with a gun. I knew that!" He repeatedly stuffed his index finger against his own chest. "I knew that! That's why I grounded him from the field. He was safe in the lab. **Safe!** You treated my orders like a joke and now look where Greg is!"

Catherine reached out. "Nick, this isn't helping."

"Let him vent," Brass stood by in case it got out of hand. "He needs to get it out and Gil's guilty conscience is dying to hear it. It's a win-win."

Grissom couldn't agree more and showed it by standing there and taking it in silence.

Nick was so outraged he didn't even hear the side conversation. "Gris, you sat in my meeting this morning cocky as hell telling me how you can commandeer my team as you see fit." Furious, Nick looked at the rest of the group. "You know what he said…he said being The Master has its privileges." Pointing his finger in Grissom's face he yelled, "If Greg doesn't make it out of there it's going to be your **privilege** to tell Tawny he's dead! And seven months from now you can have **the privilege** of telling the babies they don't have a father because you broke the rules and left a man alone in the field who should have **never** should have been there in the first place!"

"You're right, Nick," Grissom admitted with his hands in the air. "You're absolutely right."

"I don't want to be right! Is that what you think!" Nick's volume decreased as his strength began to crack. "I want Greg safe. That's what I want. That's what I wanted when I gave the order, and that's what I want now. He's like a brother to me. He's family. I want to see him finish what he started. I want him to propose to Tawny." He placed his palm over his heart. "I want to watch him to get married and I want to see...I want to see him holding those babies."

Catherine chimed in as she placed her hands on his shoulders, "That's all any of us want, Nicky." She gave his tense shoulders a squeeze. "Come on…let's take a walk." Gently she pushed him toward the open field to the left of the road and he complied. "Warrick, call me if something changes."

Brass glanced at Grissom. "Was it enough for your guilty conscience?"

"No."

Warrick lamented, "Nothing anyone can say will ever outdo what you say to yourself."

"Brass!" The sheriff barked as he approached. "What the hell? Yesterday one of your men flips out at a scene and almost destroys it, today you leave a rookie alone in the field and he's a hostage! This daily screw-up thing you've started **isn't** impressing me!"

"Burdick…" Remaining cool, Brass stepped forward. "About the flip out at the scene…Stokes thought the vic was his niece. Come on…who wouldn't flip?"

"And today?" He pushed. "What's your excuse for this? Or are you too busy playing Spank Me at Lady Heather's to know?"

Outraged he snapped, "That was uncalled for and you know it. I'm entitled to a personal life. I wasn't on the clock and it's not your place to judge how I spend my free time."

Burdick changed directions. "You've already been in this position once before, Jim, and should know shit rolls up hill. Take a whiff! Once again it's piling up outside **your **door!"

Forcing himself calm, Brass retorted, "If you need someone to blame then by all means point the finger at me, because I agree…I'm ultimately accountable. But let's save the analysis until AFTER we get Greg Sanders out of that building alive. Until then, I want to remain in the moment figuring out a way to save his ass, not wasting my time doing Monday morning quarterbacking. Sound like a plan you can handle?"

"Fair enough." The Sheriff grabbed his cell. "I'll set everything up to start the investigation the second this situation comes to a close. You call me when you have news. And for the lab's sake and your ass's, it better be good news."

"Funny…I was thinking the same thing except it was for the sake of Sanders, his pregnant girlfriend and his parents." Brass nodded. "Yeah…I'll call you."

**Hughes Residence  
****3:15 p.m. **

What's that ringing? Greg thought as he stirred from slumber. It keeps ringing. As his eyes fluttered open the answer came…it's my cellphone. The ringing was louder now that he was awake and before he could wonder where he was, why he was lying on a cement floor and why his lower back was throbbing, a voice yelled…

"Don't answer that!"

When he sat up and turned, that's when Greg realized, it hadn't been a bad dream. Tucker was real. The gun was real. The nightmare was real.

"Welcome back," Tucker greeted his guest with a wild smile and the wave of a loaded gun. "Congratulations, the un-churched won." Then he laughed. "The look on your face…you really thought you imagined all this, didn't you? You're a real wimp for a cop."

Slowly Greg scooted back up until he was sitting against a row of cabinets at the rear of the workshop, putting about ten feet between him and the gun. Anxious, he glanced around looking for Debra Hughes. "Where…" From sobbing heavily earlier, his throat was coated and he coughed several times trying to clear it. "Where is your mother?" That's when he saw the blood spatter on the wall by the stairs.

Tucker nonchalantly replied, "Last I saw her she was running up the stairs gushing blood." While keeping his eyes on Greg, he pointed the gun towards the stairs and released a bullet. "Cause I capped her in the back."

The sound of the shot and the ease with which the gunman pulled the trigger set off Greg's panic once more. In an instant his stomach knotted and his pulse notched. The walls were closing in again and he remembered the last words he heard before passing out…_tell the cops not to come down here or I'll torch the place! _If a fiery blaze was the plan…if Tucker was going to douse him with paint thinner before lighting the match, Greg decided right there, he'd make Tucker shoot him first.

"I shot my mom, but I didn't shoot you," Tucker announced as he sniffed the tip of the gun. "Hmm…funny smell…I like it though."

Trapped in the corner of a windowless basement with the only way out blocked by a psychotic gunman who outweighed him by forty pounds of muscle and already shot his mother without hesitation, Greg could only think of one word...hopeless. He thought of the photo of the ring in his back pocket and started to crumble. It's hopeless he grieved in silence…hopeless. Suddenly the word triggered a memory.

_Sitting on a locker room bench watching Nick inspect his firearm, Greg confessed, "I failed my firearm certification again. It's hopeless. My ass is going to be back in the lab in no time." _

"_What's with you Greggo?" Nick secured his weapon and then leaned against his locker. "You had it down when I was at the range with you last week." _

"_At practice I'm fine, but when it comes to certification I freeze up. Honestly…I think my mind is undermining me. A lot of times the person who has a gun ends up being shot by it." Vulnerable, he quietly shared his fear. "I don't ever want to be staring down the barrel of a gun waiting to be blown away."_

"_I've been there a few times. It's a scary place." Nick took a seat next to his friend. "But obviously it's not always hopeless because I'm still here. It's not over until you're dead. You remember that if you ever find yourself in a difficult situation." He pointed to his chest, tapping it. "As long as your heart is beating…you don't give up the fight." _

"_Maybe that's the problem, I've uh…never been much of a fighter. I have a long history as a pacifist…" He hung his head. "Especially when getting pummeled by a jock...or two. Fighting back, aside from being a losing battle, just prolongs the torture. I don't have that fighting instinct in me." _

"_Because you've never played football." Nick spoke in a brotherly tone. "It's easy to develop that instinct when you're a scrawny Running Back trying not to get annihilated by a Defensive Tackle twice your size." After Greg was done rolling his eyes, he continued, "I know you hate football and jocks, but here's another thing you would have learned…quitting is** not** an option. No matter how bad the situation looks you play to win until it's officially over. The other team may have a seven point lead and there's three seconds left on the clock, but in your head, everything else is blocked and the **only **option is a 'Hail Mary Pass' that you're gonna catch in the end zone." _

_Greg smiled at the effort. "Can you translate that into Geekspeak for me?"_

_Chuckling, Nick replied, "Here…you'll relate to this. One fine October night I caught that Hail Mary Pass in the end zone. The next morning…I found myself in bed with a hangover, a cracked rib, two Aggie girls and some fantastic memories. No guts, no glory, no girls. Keep your eye on the prize, Greggo." _

"_I appreciate you trying but..." _

"_Okay, all kidding aside." In a calm voice Nick counseled his fearful friend, "I think you're too hung up on thinking you don't have the right stuff because you're scared. You don't have to feel less of a man because you're scared. It's normal to panic when you suddenly find yourself in a tight spot. Remember…I told you that after that gang shooting we got caught in when you were telling me you were fine while shaking like a mouse dangling by its tail from a cat's mouth." He couldn't help but smile. "It was the same night I met Carrie. Remember, she came to the scene after seeing it on TV and she…" _

"_Focus, Wise One." _

"_Sorry." Laughing at himself Nick continued, "The key is…after you initially panic, you have to force yourself to stay calm. You have to force yourself to think. You look around and see what you can use to help yourself out. If someone has a gun on you then you try to talk to him…because when he's talking he's not shooting. If you can't disarm him physically, then disarm him mentally because if you can do that, sometimes you create an opportunity. You watch his body language…is he starting to shake or sweat? You watch his eyes…is his confidence gone, is he looking away from you long enough for you to make a move? You test the boundaries…you move a little closer and watch his reaction." He patted his belly. "And at all times, trust your gut. It's ahead of your mind in these situations. If your gut says now's your chance, you take it without hesitation." _

_After absorbing the information Greg asked, "Is that how it worked for you with Nigel?" _

"_Absolutely." Nick placed his hand on Greg's slouched shoulders. "It's all about attitude. You put both dogs in the ring and you fight to live. For motivation think of all the things you still have left to do and play it in your head." Cracking a grin he stood up. "Your mantra could be…I don't want to die a virgin because Doc will discover my unpopped cherry during autopsy and make it a matter of public record."_

_Greg joked, "Is that what you used when you were facing Nigel?" _

"_Sorry to disappoint ya." He paused for a chuckle. "But I had to retire that mantra junior year of high school." Putting a foot up on the bench he said, "Now if I found myself in an impossible situation, I'd focus on my future with Carrie…who I plan on proposing to next month, but keep your trap shut about it. She's more than enough motivation for me to give the fight of my life." He winked, "But I suppose you could channel the same sentiment towards your blow up doll." _

"_I'm sure." Greg laughed along. "Thanks for the pep talk and the harassment, Bro." _

"_Any time." _

**Command Center  
****3:20 p.m. **

The heat of the day showing on her sunburned cheeks, Catherine re-joined Brass, Grissom and Warrick for the second time. She had already run over once before to grab some water and check in. This time she gave an update on Nick. "I talked him down. He was already on edge before this happened and obviously this is making it worse." Catherine had learned a lot more from Nick than she was willing to share. "He's got it together now and he's gonna hold it together. He's just hanging up with Carrie. He wanted to give her the 411 before she heard it at the courthouse and thought it was him. He also wanted to make sure she knew that Tawny is being kept in the dark and she shouldn't contact her."

"Good." Brass nodded. "Thanks for getting everything under control."

"Well someone has to be a voice of reason in this group of testosterone infused hot heads." Glancing at the house in the distance she sighed, "Too bad I can't talk to Tucker Mifflin."

When they saw Nick approaching, the group fell quiet and waited for him to make the first move.

"Hey…" Joining the circle he quietly said, "Sorry for the outburst. It won't happen again." He locked eyes with Grissom. "I know you're already beating up on yourself. I didn't need to add to that. It was a gross error in judgment on your part, but we've all unfortunately made them over the years." He robotically used Carrie's words. "We're all human. You never expected this happen. You care about Greg just as much as me. What's done is done and now we need to look forward." Then he found some words of his own and spoke comfortably, "So uh, Gris…with that said, I'm hoping we can work together to bring Greg out of there alive. I don't want any bad blood between us."

The words meant the world to Grissom. "Thank you, Nicky."

"No need." He extended his hand.

Grissom quickly accepted the gesture and the sentiment behind it.

**Hughes Residence  
****3:25 p.m. **

With Nick's advice fresh in his mind, and using Tawny and the babies as motivation, Greg pulled it together enough to stay in the moment. While glancing around taking a mental inventory, he began speaking, "Tucker…you uh…obviously have a lot of shit on your mind. What's up with the church thing…you want to talk about that? Because I …" The ring of Greg's cellphone interrupted and he saw Tucker get riled. "They'll keep calling, so how about letting me grab it from my pocket and shut the ringer off? You have my only weapon. You know that's true because if I had another one, I would have tried to use it before, right?" He held up his hands. "I've got nothing else on me except my keys and my wallet."

Aiming the gun squarely at Greg's chest he ordered, "Make it stop ringing, but if you try to pull anything, I blow you away."

"I promise I won't." With his right hand he reached into the pocket of his jeans and slowly removed the phone, which had stopped ringing. Hitting the display button he saw that it was Tawny who had last called and he imagined her wondering why he hadn't been answering. If only he could hear her voice. Then he reminded himself…you will, as soon as you handle things here. _No guts, no glory, no girls. Keep your eye on the prize._

"Are you sure the ringer is off?" Tucker prodded while waving the gun.

As he pushed the speed dial for Grissom's cell he answered, "Yes." After laying the phone down on the floor next to him, he pushed it off to the side. If Grissom answered loudly and Tucker heard it, Greg would claim to have pushed the wrong button. Hopefully Tucker would buy it.

**Command Central  
****3:28 p.m. **

While standing in a tight circle with his co-workers, Grissom heard his cell ring. The rest of the group kept talking as he grabbed the phone. "Quiet!" He shouted when he saw the caller ID. "It's Greg's phone."

"Maybe he's okay but can't get out," Catherine optimistically declared.

"Or maybe it's Mifflin," Warrick countered.

Grissom anxiously shouted, "Give me your gum, Nick. Now! Jim…go tell everyone to keep it down."

With no clue as to why, Nick spit his sugarless bubble gum into his palm and offered it up.

In a flash Grissom swiped the gum, planted it firmly over the tiny receiver hole in his phone and pressed the talk button. "Just in case Greg is calling on the sly," He finally explained as he pressed the speaker button. "Now Mifflin won't hear us."

**The ringer is off and the phone won't bother us again. So will you calm down?**

**So you want to know what kind of crazy shit I have going on in my head, huh? **

**Yeah, if you want to talk.**

**That's why I'm keeping you around. You amuse me.**

"Excellent," Grissom announced. "We have one-way communication, we know Greg is well and he's got the guy talking."

Brass interjected," Why don't the four of you huddle up with the phone in a quiet spot and I'll stay at command and be the go between?" He handed Catherine a radio. "Since you're the calmest one…we'll feed each other updates."

"Got it." Clutching the radio she followed the three men to a secluded spot.

**Hughes Residence**

"Uh…" Greg didn't know where to begin. The guy was a psycho and his mind a minefield. Say the wrong thing and he'd blow. While thinking of an approach, Greg accessed an absorbed lecture from Grissom.

_When Grissom entered the observation area after he finished successfully interrogating the rape suspect Greg remarked in awe, "That was amazing. How did you do that?" _

"_In this job, it's important to listen and ask the right questions." He smiled at the verbose young man. "You're a talker, Greg. Which is necessary too, but don't forget to listen. You need to listen and understand who you are dealing with. You need to understand what's making him tick. And you need to know what's going to set him off so you can avoid it." _

"_That guy thought you were his best buddy." _

"_That's right. Once you get into his head you'll know how to make him trust you. If you can do that, sometimes he'll open up. If he thinks he's talking to a guy who understands him, sometimes he'll blab." Grissom winked. "Even deranged psychotics like a little empathy every now and then." _

"_Just don't piss them off," Greg chuckled._

"_That's right. You don't tell a guy who's just killed his cheating wife that you're happily married. You want him to think you know what it's like to walk in his shoes. If he's a loner, you're a loner." At the door he turned and said, "Misery loves company, Greg."_

_Being a smart ass he retorted," If misery is in love with company, then why isn't misery cheerier?" _

_Grissom had no problem fielding the question. "Isn't it obvious? Because company doesn't love misery back." _

"_That makes sense." _

"_My answers always do"_

With Grissom's lecture in mind, Greg tossed out some bait. "I've been to a shrink, Tucker. I've had people messing with my head. It sucks. They slap a label on you and hand you a bottle of pills. At least that's what they did to me. What did they do to you? Did they give you a label?"

Tucker eyed the man carefully and said, "They let you work for the police department and carry a gun when you're messed in the head?"

"As far as letting me carry a gun, since you're the one holding it I'm thinking they shouldn't. But they let me because I'm not messed up now…no one there even knows I ever had a problem. See…I had my problem when I was thirteen." Although Tucker was looking twitchy, Greg forced himself to stick to the game plan and changed to an even more gregarious tone. "Well…I'm not exactly normal now. I mean look at my hair, right? I'm just normal enough to fit in and stay in control…and pass a psych exam. But when I was thirteen I was a psychological disaster."

Not sure he bought the story, Tucker asked, "What was your label?"

Greg looked his captor in the eyes. "Suicidal Depressive."

**Command Center**

With the phone lying on an overturned trash can that Warrick had snagged, the foursome listened intently.

"Suicidal Depressive…nice choice," Catherine announced. "Who hasn't hit rock bottom and thought of checking out once or twice in their life?" When she saw the guys gape at her she said, "I stand corrected."

**So, what's your label, Tucker?**

"Excellent question, Greg." Grissom waited anxiously for the reply.

**Rapid-Cycling Bi-Polar with Psychotic Tendencies.**

"Great." Nick tensed. "Totally unpredictable off meds."

Grissom folded his arms across his chest. "But at least he knows what he's dealing with and can watch for signs."

**How many times did you try to off yourself, Greg?**

**Hughes Residence**

"Once." Greg kept telling himself to stay cool. And as he talked about suicide, he kept his eye on the prize…his life.

"How did you do it?"

"Thought about shooting myself but what if I didn't do it successfully?" Greg fashioned a gun out of his fingers and held it to his head. "If I only blew out part of my brain then I'd spend the rest of my life hooked up to a machine." He lowered his hand. "It wasn't worth the risk. Besides, my folks didn't keep a gun in the house and I didn't know where to buy one illegally back then."

"I slit my wrists." Tucker eagerly held up the left one and showed off the scar. "But I didn't do a good job. Should have made it deeper and in the other direction."

Greg shivered, "I was too much of a wuss to slit my wrists." Whimsically he shared another scenario, "I did think about stealing my dad's car and driving it off the Pacific Coast Highway. That's this winding road in California with lots of big cliffs. But since I didn't know how to drive I figured I'd get busted before I made it there."

**Command Center**

"If I didn't know Greg, I'd say he sounds real," Warrick commented, impressed by Greg's ability to think under pressure.

Catherine stared at the phone with a tilted head. "What if he's not making it up? We assume Greg has nothing dark in his past because he's such a lighthearted guy…but people can hide secrets." She rested her gaze on Nick. "And you'd never know."

The guys turned toward her.

**So how did you do it, Greg?**

And then back at the phone.

**Pills and booze.**

**Hughes Residence**

"Pills and booze." Tucker commiserated, "I tried that too, but my mom found me."

"My mom found me too." Greg kept the connection with Tucker's eyes. "She wasn't supposed to."

Curious to know if their reasons were the same Tucker probed, "Why did you do it?"

"Why does anyone?" Greg huffed, "I was tired of the shit going on in my life and didn't want to deal." He redirected. "Is that why you did it?"

"Hell yeah." Tucker excitedly grinned before detailing his plan. "That's why I'm gonna do it today…only this time I'm not failing…you either. We'll do it together. We'll do it right this time." Using the gun he pointed around the room. "We have everything we need to guarantee a good BOOM and…"

"No way man!" Greg vehemently shook his head as he fought to block the terror rising within. "You don't want to go out burning up. Because you won't die fast enough. You'll suffer first. You'll suffer **hard**. A few years ago I was in an explosion and I spent some quality time in a burn unit. Trust me on this…you **don't **want to go that way."

"You're making that up." His paranoia sparked, he snapped, "You're making all this up! You're trying to buddy up to me so I won't shoot you. I saw that on one of those cop shows on TV!" Straightening his arms he pointed the gun. "Here's a news flash! I shot my own mother so what makes you think I won't shoot a stranger who's nice to me? Huh! HUH!"

**Command Center**

"Shit!" Nick laced his hands behind his head and paced. "He pissed him off."

"He'll get himself out," Warrick confidently assured the worried group. "Give him a chance. Greggo's a talker. Tucker's no match for him."

**You son of bitch!**

**I have proof! I have proof I'm not lying to you, Tucker! **

**What kind of proof?**

Grissom's lips edged upward. "He has scars to prove it."

**I have scars on my back to prove it.**

"Thanks to me," Catherine blurted as she held her forehead with her hand. "And now I'm suddenly thankful I blew up the lab."

"Good job, Greg." He glanced over at Nick and saw him listening with his eyes closed. "Nick…you know he's got the scars to prove it."

**Hughes Residence**

"Show me!" Tucker screamed as he clutched the gun in his sweaty hands. "If there's nothing on your back you're dead."

Without hesitation Greg hoisted up his funky patterned blue t-shirt and twisted to show his back. "See! They're much better now because I had skin grafts, but I'm not lying, Man! So stay cool!" Noting his voice was edgy he took a deep breath. "I'm not lying about **any** of it, Tucker. I'm not screwing with you. I swear."

"Yes you are!" His eyes narrowing he gripped the pistol tighter. "You said you work in a lab so I believe the explosion, but the rest is bullshit. You don't know anything about where I've been or where I am!"

"It's not bullshit! It's not!" He dropped his shirt and twisted back around pleading with the emotion in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice, "Valium, Vicodin and Vodka….a triple V cocktail. My dad is a dentist who can prescribe, and my mom used to get really bad migraines and kept the drugs on hand." As he divulged the story and stared down the barrel of the gun, his rate of speech accelerated." It was right there in the medicine cabinet ripe for the picking. The wet bar in the living room was always stocked. I grabbed the vodka because I liked how the bottle looked. I was done in five minutes and I lay down on the couch to watch cartoons…I was offing myself while watching freakin' Tom and Jerry! Isn't that pathetic! I didn't even pick something deep or significant." His voice cracked as he delved into the next part. "When I woke up in the hospital the first thing I said to my mother when I saw her sitting by my side was…I said…why did you have to find me?" The painful memory made him wince. "I broke her heart all over again and she bawled her eyes out. I'm not lying, Tucker." Greg swallowed hard as he watched Tucker's grip on the pistol tighten. "I wish it was all lies, but it's true. I swear. It's all true."

**Command Center**

With her hand over her mouth Catherine said, "That story flew out of his mouth."

Warrick shook his head. "That's one hell of a bluff under pressure."

"I don't think he's bluffing," Grissom remarked in a distant voice.

"Why would Greg try to..." Devastated that his friend could have felt that bad at thirteen, Nick fell silent.

"But does Tucker believe him?" Warrick's comment focused everyone on the present, not the past. "That's what counts."

**The Tom and Jerry part did it for me. I believe you.**

**Why did the Tom and Jerry part do it for you?**

Grissom answered, "Because you would have picked something better if you were making it up."

**If you were making it up you would have picked something better.**

"Exactly why I believed you too." Now the cryptic conversation from the day before made perfect sense to Grissom...

_With an uncharacteristic edge in his voice Greg remarked, "Since we're being disarmingly honest with one another on this day when our nerves are shot, I'll tell you. After seeing her in action twice, I think Heather is a real bitch. She's someone who enjoys cutting other people down…especially vulnerable people. I hate that. I make it a policy in life not to do that. I mean…a guy is minding his own business and some girl feels compelled to tear him down as callously and as publicly as possible. Why? Is it pathological? A hunger that needs to be fed, like our killer needed to feast on that innocent little girl?" Resentment building quickly he snapped, "Unlike a murderer physically taking a life, I think these super bitch types thrive on psychologically destroying people." _

_Grissom thought it best to let him vent and continued to listen without interrupting. _

"_There was a guy in my school so terrorized by this group of vicious girls and their jock boyfriends that he gave up thinking his life would ever get better, so one day he swallowed a bunch of pills and booze to finally escape." Greg postured and huffed, "I know you've told us you were a ghost in school so maybe you didn't notice this stuff going on. I think that's why you can't empathize on this one._

What did they do to you, Greg? Grissom thought to himself. And once more he was grateful Greg had Tawny and once more he was horrified by the thought that they might miss out on a life together…because of his error in judgment.

**Hughes Residence**

When Tucker lowered the gun, Greg started breathing again. "I wanted to die then, but I **don't** want to die **now**. I want to walk out of here. And if you come with me, I promise to get you some help. I'll make sure of it."

"It's too late." Tucker shook his head. "I killed that little girl."

Instinctively curious, Greg blurted, "How did you get her out of her house?"

"I built her a dollhouse." A smile overtook his lips. "I made it special for her because she wanted one. I saw her at the craft market playing with one. I made it look just like her house. I wanted it to be special because I figured it would be her first date."

Swallowing the lump building in his throat Greg pushed, "You brought her a custom built dollhouse instead of flowers?"

"Anyone can bring a girl flowers on a date!" Tucker blasted back.

"Hey! I'm not criticizing your moves, pal." Greg raised his hands. "I've never been one to impress chicks so…"

"You're queer, aren't you?" Tucker cracked a smile. "Yeah…I can see that with yourscrewed up hair and those weird red sneakers." He burst out laughing. "I love it…god let me shoot the Christian and spared the Sodomite. If my mom knew you were a homo, she wouldn't have prayed to save your overused ass. Haven't you heard? Being queer is an express ticket to the eternal hellfire. I'm sure one less of you on the planet wouldn't break her heart. That's another reason she liked me drugged. Can't get it up when you're doped into a stupor. She was always afraid I was givin' it to some guy. She even tricked me into seeing these creeps from her church who were supposed to help me see that homosexuality wasn't god's plan for man."

Cautiously, Greg asked, "The little girl…Brittany…were you trying to prove something there, Tucker?" Was the girl a desperate attempt to prove he wasn't gay? Or was she truly the target and he was a pedophile? Or was she just a vessel like Grissom posited that morning? Until confirmed, Greg decided not to choose and left things open so he could go in any direction Tucker went.

"Brittany wanted it," He was quick to explain. "I saw the way she looked at me at the craft market. She was hot for me. The other girls…they never looked at me like that. **Finally** a chick gave me a rise." He reached into his pocket and retrieved at pack of cigarettes. "You smoke?"

A crazy idea popped into his head and when his gut gave its okay he gave it a shot. "Not cigarettes. You got anything else?" Greg was sure a little delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol absorbed by the pleasure receptors of Tucker's brain would be a quick way to disarm him mentally and keep him calm…a nice dopamine boost coupled with a lack of coordination and a loss of concentration would do the trick "But nothin' amped…only straight MJ, and I'll pass if it's schwag."

"Yeah…I've got some."

**Command Center**

Warrick smiled approvingly. "That's Greggo, speakin' street, pretending he's cool." He couldn't stop the smile from creeping up on his face. "Nothin' amped…that's right, you tell him Greggo…you don't need it laced with PCP or crack because you're already trippin' from the nightmare."

"What's he thinkin'?" Nick's tone was thick with worry. "That he'll get him to chill?" He surveyed the gang's expressions. "Do you like this plan? I don't like this plan. It's way too risky. He doesn't know the quality of the product. It could be garbage. Either one could have a bad reaction. I can only imagine how screwed Mifflin's brain chemistry is without smoking grass."

"He thinks it will stabilize his mood and make him lose coordination and concentration." Grissom ran his fingers back and forth over his beard while he pondered the plan. "In theory it could work, but Tucker's been on and off meds, probably a bunch of different combinations for a while, and now that he's gone cold turkey it's throwing him in and out of mania and psychosis…you're correct, Nick, his brain chemistry is unpredictable."

"And Greg's mentally and physically wiped…" Catherine sounded like a worried mother. "Even if he was a toker at some point in his life, he hasn't been one for at least seven years because of drug testing at work. He's out of practice and Tucker's a regular. I'm with Nick…I don't like this plan."

Warrick shrugged. "Well, we can't stop him and we can't help him, so what we think doesn't really matter."

**So you're a gay cop who can't hold onto his weapon and likes to spark up?**

**I told you before…I'm not a cop. And the people I work with don't know shit about my personal life.**

**You really have them fooled.**

**They should only know…I'm good.**

"**I'm good."** Grissom nodded. "That's meant for us. He at least _thinks_ he knows what he's doing."

"That's what scares me," Nick started pacing again. "Greg also thought he wouldn't get Tawny pregnant…now she's having twins."

**The Townhouse  
****3:55 p.m.**

Tawny put down her cellphone and told Sara, "He hasn't answered since eleven. It's almost four. He told me to check in every two hours. Now it's just going straight to voicemail. I bet his battery died and he doesn't know it because I don't remember him charging his phone last night." Once again she picked up her phone. "I'll call the main number at the lab and have him paged. He has to be there because I spoke with Nick earlier and he promised me he wouldn't send him out in the field."

"Wait!" Wringing her hands Sara crossed the room trying to decide what to do. Gil had told her it was best for the babies to lie. But she also remembered her own words to her husband the day before…_You know how I feel about shelters. Shelters leave you unprepared for the real world and you end up blindsi_ded _and shocked. _If she left Tawny in the dark and things didn't work out, the shock would be exponentially greater and potentially more life threatening to the babies. But if she left her in the dark and things turned out okay she would never be able to trust any of them again and she would be angry that they didn't give her an opportunity to handle herself. If she told the truth, Tawny would be terrified, but at least she would have time to prepare for the worst if it should happen.

"Sara?" Tawny stared at her friend and watched the color drain from her face.

"Um…" She asked herself one question…if I were in Tawny's shoes what would I want? Then she remembered…I was already in Tawny's shoes when Gil was trapped in Harper House.

"Sara…you're really freaking me out," She exclaimed while accessing the lab number from her phone's index.

"Tawny…" Sara gulped. "I need you to put down the phone."

**

* * *

**

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 17

**Posting:** Thursday Night 6/2

**Teaser:** With three seconds on the clock, will we get a Hail Mary in the end zone?

**Note:** Because this story is rated M it won't show up in Just In and sometimes the website is delayedin reflecting the update. So if the chapter is supposed be here according to the posting date and you don't see it, change the chapter number in the addy to reflect the next chapter and see if it pops up.

Thanks for reading and for your reviews on the last chapter!

Maggs


	16. Losing It Part 16

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 87: Losing It – Part 16**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****The Townhouse  
****3:57 p.m.**

Sara softly said, "Tawny…when we were talking last night about the Lady Heather thing you agreed with me that being lied to and blindsided is a horrible feeling, that if there was something going on that concerned you…you would rather know straight up than find out later."

"Right." Her hands shaking she placed her cell on the kitchen counter. "It's about Greg…"

"Promise me you'll do your best to hold it together." She took Tawny's hands. "You have to for the babies. Remember that and promise me."

"I promise," She replied in a small frightened voice. "You know why he's not answering."

"Yes." She gripped her a little tighter. "That's why Gil called earlier. Greg's…" It was too late to turn back so she forced herself to say it. "Greg's alive, but he's being held captive by a suspect in the basement of a house he was processing. They're working to get the situation under control and…"

"Oh god." The words sent a chill up her spine. "Is he hurt? Is he shot, Sara?"

"They don't think so."

"Wait…" Tawny shook her head as she slipped into denial. "No…this can't be true. Greg wasn't going into the field today. I talked to Nick and he promised me that he wouldn't send Greg out because I told him he was beat. He only had two hours of sleep and he was totally preoccupied with me and the babies and…" As her breathing sped up so did her words. "He only went to work today because he didn't want to let Nick or Gil down. Nick gave me his word! I remember the conversation…I said, _don't let Greg do anything dangerous_ and he said _don't worry, I hear you_ and he told me I could relax. I can't believe he lied…"

"Tawny!" Sara gripped her tighter. "Remember your promise. Breathe for me. I know you're tough. You have to be or you wouldn't have survived on your own since you were sixteen. If you want to be Greg's wife then you have to accept this as part of the job and you have to be strong. Be strong for the babies too. Keep telling yourself he's going to be fine. Greg's a very smart guy and he loves you…he's going to do whatever it takes to get out of there. I've been in your shoes and I know exactly how you feel but you need to believe it will all work out."

"Okay…" She nodded as she panted. "Okay."

"Nick didn't go back on his word to you," She explained. "Gil overrode Nick's orders and took Greg into the field. He never thought something like this would happen and he's doing everything he can to get Greg out of there."

"Um…okay."

"I'm going to call Gil and see if there's any news." She released Tawny's hands. "I hope it was the right decision to tell you."

"Sara…" Tawny fought to hold her tears in check. "This is just like last night at the hospital...telling me about this was for the same reason the nurse told us about the reality of miscarriage."

Sara tilted her head

"You want me to remain optimistic, but be prepared for the worst so if the time comes it won't be a complete surprise."

The two women exchanged tearful glances. "That's right," Sara confessed.

As her first tear spilled Tawny whispered, "Thank you."

"Here…" She took her by the arm. "You're shaking and pale. Let me get you over to the couch."

"I'm going to hold it together." Biting her bottom lip she tried not to sob as she crossed the room with Sara. "I'm…" Taking a seat on the couch she saw the bridal magazines and her despair soared, releasing a flood of tears. "He has to come back to me." Glancing up she saw tears spilling down Sara's cheeks too. "You heard him last night…he said forever. It's not time for us to be over."

"No…it's not." Sara wiped her tears and took a seat next to Tawny. "That's why he's going to make it. And he's going to see you walking down the aisle in that beautiful dress you picked out, and he's going to be at your side when you're delivering those two beautiful babies."

Nodding as she cried Tawny whimpered, "I can see it in my head…and if I can picture it that means it's going to happen."

Squeezing her friend's quivering hands Sara whispered, "Keep picturing it Tawny…just keep picturing it."

**Hughes Residence**

"I know it seems a little confusing." Greg forced his friendliest tone. "But I'm just a chemist…a science geek, who happens to work for the police department. They make me carry a gun when I go places just in case…well, I think it's pretty obvious what they mean by _in case_."

"A chemist, huh." Holding the gun in his right hand, Tucker reached into his pants pocket with his left. "That explains why you like chemicals." He produced a bag and some papers. "It's pure Acapulco Gold. If that doesn't do it for you, I've got some stoppers we can pop."

"Nah, let's tea party." He trusted his gut that this plan would work.

**Command Center**

Nick stared at the phone in disbelief. "Greg's tokin' with the psycho."

"I think I like this plan after all," Grissom announced much to everyone's surprise. "Acapulco Gold is marijuana and stoppers are depressants. Tucker's been self-medicating. When he gets too out of control he's relying on street drugs to take the edge off. So this should work."

Catherine looked over at Nick. "I'm feeling a little better, how about you?"

He shrugged. "Since it's all he's got…" Greg's next words grabbed his attention...

**My boss…his name is Nick, he's gonna be royally pissed that I let this happen.**

**He's a real stickler for rules…total control freak. **

**Obviously I let things get out of control here.**

The gang watched for Nick's reaction as he listened.

**Is he an asshole? My boss was an asshole. That's why I told him to shove it.**

**Nah, Nick's not an asshole. He just doesn't like it when I don't listen to him or do stupid shit.**

**Like letting some deranged guy grab your gun?**

**Yeah…stuff like that. And he told me to stay out of the field today.  
****Apparently he knew what he was talking about, huh? I should have listened.**

Warrick placed a hand on Nick's shoulder, "He knows you're out here feeling bad and he's absolving you. Hell…he's staring down the barrel of a gun and he's worried about you. That's gotta tell you something."

Nick clamped his mouth tight and nodded.

Grissom didn't expect to be granted the same clemency.

**If Nick could hear me, I'd say you tried your best, Bro, but I'm…_hopeless_.  
****He doesn't like when I use the word _hopeless _because it's not a macho thing to say.  
****He's into football and all that bravado, which is really annoying.  
****Talks about when he caught this Hail Mary pass at some _really important_ _game.  
_****Says things like…_quitting is not an option_. No guts, no glory, no girls.  
****Stupid jock shit like that. Eye on the prize is another one.  
****He thinks I tune him out, but I'm listening.  
****_Eye on the prize! _I think he expects me to bark back something like…_you know it, Bro!_  
****It's so friggin' annoying.**

"Hold up…hold up." Nick burst into a grin. "He's telling me he's in it to win. Yeah…he's playin' ball. Greggo's playin some ball!"

"What are you talking about?" Catherine prodded while wondering if Nick was spiraling out of control again.

After breathing in and exhaling sharply in relief, he explained to the group, "Remember when he failed his firearm cert right before the Dales Trail incident? I was in the locker room with him and he was dogging himself…talking about how he's not a fighter. I was trying to psych him up with some football talk." Enthusiastically he pointed at the phone. "There's three seconds on the clock and he knows his only option is to catch the Hail Mary in the end zone…he's playing a game and he's determined to win." He punched his fist in open palm. "Yes! Now I'm feeling better about this plan."

Grinning, Warrick slapped Nick on the back. "Way to go, Coach."

Catherine and Grissom exchanged glances that said the same thing…attitude is one thing, but can he pull it off the first time he tries, especially under the influence?

When his cellphone blared, Nick snatched it off his belt and told the group, "It's Sara."

"She wouldn't be able to get through on my phone because I have the call-waiting feature blocked," Grissom announced.

"Go ahead, Sara." Nick answered.

"I told Tawny. I had to and she deserves to know."

Nick froze up for a second then asked, "How's she handling it?"

The group looked on and Catherine asked, "Tawny knows?" Her question was confirmed when she saw Nick nod.

"She's holding up. Much better than me at Harper House. Nick…I know I can't bring her to the scene, but she wants to be close so whenever something happens, she's there…in case time is short. She um…told me that when her dad died she was away from home for the day and she didn't make it to the hospital in time to say goodbye. If Greg gets out but is critically injured…"

"I hear you," He solemnly replied. "Tell you what…there's a gas station just before you turn off the road leading to the house. You can park it there and keep your cell on waiting for one of us to update you. That way she won't see all the trucks and equipment and panic. Will that work?"

"I think it will. And Nick…she wants me to tell you that she knows Greg disobeyed your orders and she's knows you didn't lie to her." Her voice softened, "Once Greg's safely out this mess…which we know he will be…I think Tawny will let him have it for going into the field."

Nick faintly smiled. "You tell her we can hear everything that's going on in there and Greg's alive and well. He's talking his way out of it. And she knows how good of a talker Chuckles is, so she should stay optimistic and get ready to chew out his ass."

"I'll tell her."

**Hugh's Residence**

Tucker tossed the supplies at Greg. "Roll one for each of us. Since we'll be checking out, why make it last?"

"Cool, thanks." As he rolled a nice fat one for Tucker, Greg prodded, "So, why wouldn't the girls in high school give you the time of day?"

"Because they thought I was queer. They saw me getting my ass kicked and heard the guys." His voice grew cold. "They loved riding me…until I showed them I meant business."

"What'd you do?" Holding up the abundantly packed joint he warned, "Dude…now don't be tossing your discarded match anywhere near that container of paint thinner. Remember the scars I showed you…why end the party before it even starts, right?"

Tucker gave a nod of reassurance. "Right. Anyway, I only have a lighter."

Greg quickly noted…**no matches. **Now he waited to see if Tucker would put down the gun to light up.

**Command Center**

"No matches," Grissom nodded enthusiastically. "Just a lighter."

"And he'll have to give it to Greg to fire up," Catherine surmised. "Maybe he can hold onto it."

**Hughes Residence**

Balancing the joint between his lips, Tucker flicked the lighter. "I came to school with a gun but they busted me."

Since the gun never went down and his gut told him to keep playing it cool, Greg continued, "So that's what your mom was talking about before when she said it would be like high school if the cop came down here and found you with my gun?"

"Right." He chucked the lighter at Greg. "I was expelled and ordered into psychiatric treatment. They changed my meds around a lot. What were you on?"

"I don't know." Greg lit up his lightly stuffed joint and then slyly stowed the lighter behind his back. "My mom took care of everything. I just swallowed what she gave me." He took the smallest hit possible while making it seem much bigger. "I always thought it was ironic that they gave me pills to get well after I just swallowed a bunch of them to die."

"That does seem messed up."

Greg held up his joint. "You were right, this is good shit."

"Told ya." Tucker took another hit.

Greg smoothly said, "So, Tuck…is it okay if I call you Tuck?"

"Yeah, that's cool. My dad used to call me that."

"So what meds did they have you on, Tuck?"

**Command Center**

Grissom nodded. "Another excellent question, Greg. And using the friendly nickname is a nice touch."

**Lithium and Depakote.**** Makes me feel like a friggin' zombie.**

**When did you stop taking your meds?**

**A couple of weeks ago.**** Hey, Man…you're wasting good shit. Take another hit.**

**I was into your story…it's good to have someone who knows where I've been.**

"He's trying to fake smoking," Warrick stated as he listened intently. "Let Tuck get high while you fake it, Greggo."

**Greg, I'm sure they beat your ass and called you queer.**

**All the time in middle school.**

**What's the worst thing they ever did to you?**

Nick turned away thinking of his conversation with Carrie…_what would those good 'ol boys have taunted you with day after day until the day you died? You were nine and confused, but not stupid. They would have called you queer. You knew if you spoke the truth you'd end up being victimized all over again. _

**Hughes Residence **

"The **worst** thing?" Greg feigned a crazy laugh. "Shit…there's so much to choose from…I had a year of solid abuse. But here's the cream of the crop. Happened right before I tried to check out…the proverbial straw on the camel's back. You're the only person I've ever told this story to, Tuck, so let's keep it between us, okay? We're buds, right?" It was the truth, he had never spoken of the details. Not even his mom knew the real story.

"I'll take it to the grave, Man." He laughed riotously. "And since I don't plan on seeing anyone but you between now and then, I think you know your secret will be safe."

Pushing past Tucker's insistence on dying, Greg told his tale. "There was this girl…"

"It's always a friggin' girl." Tucker groaned as he exhaled.

"Always." Greg paused for a drag. "Serena Tennison," He proclaimed on the exhale. "You ever catch reruns of Bewitched? My mom loves that show. Serena is the name of a witch…so fitting. Serena Tennison was a witch and a bitch. At the time…before this happened, I thought she was nice. But she was just playin' me."

"They're always playin'…that's what they're born to do. They practice playing with dollhouses and little plastic people, then once they're good at it…they switch to messin' with real people." Tucker relaxed against the wall. "What did this witch bitch do to ya?"

"She set me up…set me up **big."** He channeled the traumatic memory to make it as raw and believable as possible. "I was in this prestigious boys choir…one of the best in the country. I even sang solo in New York City in a big concert hall."

"Fag city right there man." Tucker laughed hard. "They make you wear one of those stupid blazers and a tie?"

"Hell yeah to both statements. That's why I kept it quiet from the kids at school." Greg joined in the laughter. "I wasn't stupid! I wasn't advertising it. But the witch bitch found out. I still don't know how. Anyway…she comes over to my locker. I don't know about you but…a chick at my locker was not the norm."

"I bet you were stoked."

"Oh yeah." He nodded. "Shoulda been a red flag, but even though I was real smart at academics, I was dumb when it came to people." He saw the scene in his head and it fueled his ire. "Serena tells me she wants to audition for the school play and she heard my mom was a music teacher and that I was a really good singer. She wanted to know if I could give her voice lessons at her house after school. So I'm psyched."

**Command Center**

"He thinks you're gay, Greg." Grissom anxiously listened. "You thought he was so you played along, but he likes little girls."

Nick leaned in concerned. "He's gonna think he's lying again and blow."

**Did you think she was gonna give you some play? Wait…why would you care if you're gay?**

Warrick stuffed his arms across his chest. "Talk your way out of it, Greg."

**Hey, I never said I was gay, you assumed that…just like they did.**

**I was saying I wasn't good with chicks. Doesn't mean I don't want one. **

**Just means I have a hard time getting one. Ever been there?**

**Before Brittany I wasn't having much luck.**

**See! Hey…maybe I should learn how to build dollhouses so I can score.**

**It's not that hard. I got some books and taught myself. **

**Dude…if you can pass Chemistry, I don't think you'll have a problem building a dollhouse.**

**Excellent news because I'm really pent up.**

Grissom relaxed his shoulders. "Nice."

"And creepy." Catherine shivered from hearing the words come from Greg's mouth.

Warrick reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "Not everything he's saying is real."

"Thank God." Nick shuddered at the thought. "I wish the rest of it wasn't either."

**What happened when you got there…to the witch's house? Did she put a spell on you?**

**Yes, she did. She sat there batting her eyelashes and mesmerizing me with her smile.**

**I'm singing my little heart out showing her how it's done, thinking she really digs me. **

**I had no clue there were four jocks in the kitchen waiting to beat me senseless.**

**What did you do to them to piss them off?**

**You mean besides exist and attempt to share the same air at school! **

"I think we're about to find out why Greg really hates jocks," Catherine readied for details, which she assumed from the emotion in Greg's voice, would be nasty.

Without provocation Nick declared, "I swear I didn't do that stuff." His guilty conscious assaulted him. "I knew it happened though and I played ball with guys who did…so I guess that makes me no better than the guys who did."

Grissom opined, "I don't think any of us are the same people we were then, Nicky."

"Hell no." Catherine offered reassurance. "I'm not even the same person I was last year."

**Hughes Residence**

"What did I do to piss them off?" Greg rolled his eyes hard. "One of them said I smiled at him…accused me of coming on to him. These guys were your stereotypical homophobic jocks…" His voice grew distant as he remembered the merciless beating. "Ironically, their homophobia actually ended up working in my favor."

"How's that?" Tucker took a long drag and rested the hand holding the gun on his lap.

Greg started at the beginning. "They put duct tape over my mouth, stripped me down to my tighty whities and then duct taped my wrists. They didn't want to do it in the witch's house so they dragged me to this secluded area in this park behind her house. They had it all perfectly planned." Exhaustion catching him off guard, along with the pain of reliving the details for the first time in seventeen years, Greg took a long, slow hit and forgot to fake inhaling. "Three of the guys and Serena just stood there egging on the guy who accused me of smiling at him. They just stood there laughing their asses off as he beat me to a pulp. I could barely breathe with the tape over my mouth and my nose full of blood and snot."

Tucker sat entranced by the story and the haunted quality in Greg's voice.

Greg circled his freehand in front of his face. "My lips were busted, my nose was pouring red, my entire body was throbbing, and just when I'm thinking I can't take another punch or kick and I'm hoping I'd die, one of the guys standing there says the magic words, 'That's an awful lot of blood, what if he has AIDS'? That freaked them out and they took off." He cracked up. "How ironic is that? The guy pounds me because he thinks I'm gay and then he stops pounding me because he thinks I'm gay. Of course the ultimate irony was…I wasn't smiling at **him**, I was smiling at **the girl** behind him because I wasn't gay…not that he gave me a chance to explain."

"They never do man." Tucker nodded. "I've been there. It sucks. That's why I started pumping iron. Nobody messes with me now. No fucking way."

**Command Center**

"Don't let that tweak you, Greg," Warrick barked into the phone. "He's bigger but he's not smarter and I can tell he's starting to fly."

Nick remained silent as he dealt with Greg's story and recalled all the times he'd harped on him about dogging on jocks.

"Bastards." Catherine flashed to anger. "He was Lindsay's age when that happened."

"It's happening to Sean right now," Nick confessed as he looked over at Grissom. "I found him tied up in the park during the church picnic on Sunday. He said some jocks from school did it.

"Times change, human nature doesn't." Grissom sighed as he stared at the phone.

**Hughes Residence **

"So why did you kill that little girl, Tuck?" Greg raised his brows and settled back. "I was honest with you and told you a story, now you tell me one. If she was into you, why'd you have to kill her to have sex with her?"

Confused he answered, "I gave her some Vita-G…you know, to make it better for her. She didn't handle it."

"You gave her too much." Greg stared at the gun resting on Tucker's lap and noticed his fingers were still wrapped tightly around it.

**Command Center**

"I don't like this." Grissom felt his pulse notch. "He shouldn't be going there."

**Was that why she died? Because I gave her too much?**

**Yeah…I saw the autopsy report. You gave her three times more than she could handle.**

**She was short.**

**Dude! She was five years old…they usually are at that age.**

**She wanted _me_.**

**She wanted a _dollhouse_.**

**You didn't see how she looked at me.**

**Did you put the G in her chocolate ice cream?**

**How do you know that?**

"Tucker's getting edgy," Warrick commented while his brows knitted.

"So is Greg." Catherine glanced around at the rescue crews doing nothing. Not that there was anything they could or should do.

Nick covered his mouth to remind himself not to start running it.

**Hughes Residence**

"I know everything, Tucker." Greg started laughing like a lunatic and pointing at him. "I'm in your head now."

After taking the last toke possible, Tucker tossed the roach and grinned, "How's the view, Man?"

"Pretty freakin' scary. On my worst day, my head was Disneyland compared to yours." Greg began rolling another joint. "Especially what you want to do with the next one…McKenna." That's when he realized at some point he had smoked the entire joint.

**Command Center**

Nick flinched at the mention of his niece. "Why is he saying that?"

Warrick suggested, "Maybe you should take a walk, Nick."

"I'll be fine." He stood firm.

**You can see that? You know McKenna's next on my list?**

"He really was coming after her next," Nick exclaimed as his stomach twisted. "I told you I felt it in my gut."

**You can see what I want to do to McKenna?**

**I can see _everything_, Tuck. It's playing like a movie in my mind.**

**No, you can't.**

**Yes, I can. You think I'm lying again? Ask me something about McKenna.**

Even though he was sickened, Nick remained by the phone. "Greg knows what she looks like. He's seen photos."

**What does she look like?**

"Lucky break." Catherine moved closer to the phone.

**Long curly blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes and the cutest smile.**

**All she's missin' is the angel wings, Man. She's_ so_ sweet.**

**She smiled at you at the craft market and you got a rise. **

**I don't blame you. She's a looker.**

**Holy shit! You really are in my head.**

**Does that bother you? That I'm taking up some space? **

**No…I'm glad someone finally understands. **

**Misery loves company, Tuck.**

**Yeah.**

**Do you know why misery is still bummed even though it loves company?**

**Huh? **

**Because company doesn't love misery back.**

**I absorbed that from this guy at work we call Grissom. **

**He's taught me a lot about people. How to read them. How to get inside their heads. **

**He's in my head right now…helping me. He knows exactly what I'm doing.**

"Yes, I do, Greg." After listening carefully to Tucker's voice, Grissom said, "Greg has his trust and he's looking to make a move. I'm grabbing the Commander." He rushed off.

"Do you hear him? Greg sounds exhausted and wasted." Catherine looked to the guys. "You know they won't close in until they're sure Mifflin's not blowing the roof off the house. If Greg doesn't take care of him on the first strike, it could be too late."

"I hear ya." Warrick looked at Nick. "We'll be ready to run. Right, Slick?"

"Absolutely." Nick winked at his pal. "Even before they say we can. All we need is for someone to say the word."

**Hughes Residence**

"Ready for another toke?" When Greg started sliding closer he noticed the pain in his back, but tried not to show it since he was supposed to be flying high. "Hope you don't mind, feed bag's empty so we're gonna have to share this fattie." He did just as Nick said…_ you test the boundaries…you move a little closer and watch his reaction. _And he made sure to leave the lighter behind because…y_ou look around and see what you can use to help yourself out. _Feeling foggy he questioned his judgment and decided to buddy up some more.

Tucker unfurled a grin. "Hell…you're already sharing the shit inside my head so BFD. Whatever's mine is yours Buddy."

Coming up beside Tucker, Greg offered some advice. "Tuck…when you slip McKenna the G, only use a third of a cap or she'll G-hole too."

**Command Center**

"Good thing Nicky's not here for this part," Grissom sighed as he listened to Greg climb a little deeper into Tucker's diseased brain.

The Commander was standing by with his radio to call in the troops. "Your man is smoking pot with his captor?"

"Whatever it takes to survive," Brass stated while hoping Greg knew what he was doing.

**Just a third of a cap?**** Are you sure she'll get into it with only that much G?**

**Oh yeah, she'll groove.**

**Brittany barely moved. **

**Uh…yeah…that's because she was in a coma, Buddy.**

**Hey…you're not into bangin' the dead are you? Because that's over the line for me.**

**Bangin****' the dead…that's like Vampire shit.**

**Vampires are cool. Bangin' the dead isn't.**

Catherine shivered. "This conversation is giving me the creeps. I don't even recognize Greg's voice."

With his hands firmly in his pockets Brass commented, "He's talking to a psycho, what do you expect him to bring up? Chess? Relax, Cath…he's got the guy in his pocket."

**Hey…you wanna get in on the McKenna action, Greg? **

**You'd do that for me?**

**Shit…I'll even let you go first.**

**Whoa…where have you been my whole life, Tuck!**

"They're best friends now." Grissom's smile widened. "I'm so proud of you, Greg."

**Damn…**

**What's wrong, Greg?**

**I left the lighter over where I was sitting and I'm beat. I don't want to move again.**

**I'll get it. Just give me a minute to get up.**

**Thanks, Tucker…I was _really _hoping you would.**

"Now!" Catherine shouted at her partners in disobedience.

"Hold positions!" The Commander barked through his radio before turning to snap at Catherine. "Willows you keep your damn mouth clamped! The last thing we need is confusion about orders." He glared at Grissom. "That's how this mess happened in the first place, right? It's still too early."

"Commander…" A call came through the radio. "Two men without radios didn't hear the call to hold. They're halfway to the front door."

"My fault." Catherine raised her hand. "Suspension is just fine. And I'd prefer five days when you put the word in because I've wanted a vacation for a while but the lab is too backed up for me to take it."

His finger in her face, the Commander shouted, "If the house blows, it'll be a permanent vacation because you'll be fired."

"If it blows…" She turned to watch the house. "…my job is going to be the last thing on my mind."

Grissom lifted his eyes to Catherine's vexed expression. "And I'll be responsible for it all."

"Not intentionally," She honestly replied. "And the guys…it was their choice to make. They made it and I chose to give the word."

Brass threw up his hands. "You planned this?"

**Hughes Residence**

So far Greg had utilized Jock Mantras, Forensic Psychology and Organic Chemistry to achieve success, now it was time for some Physics…laws of motion in particular.

Timing was everything…Greg knew he'd have to rush him when the gun hand was swinging backwards. That way, when Tucker's body accelerated forward, the gun would shake loose and continue its backwards motion. Then he would have to pull a180 and race back to grab the loose weapon. Lastly, he would have to turn around brandishing it, willing to fire if necessary.

That was the play he'd be running in this game of his life. _No guts, no glory, no girl._ Tawny and the babies she was carrying were his motivation.

As Tucker stood, Greg knew there were only three seconds left on the clock and his only option was catching the Hail Mary in the end zone.

"Dude…" Tucker remarked as he started to cross the room loosely holding the gun in his right hand. "Are you hungry? Because I'm starving."

Greg changed from a sit to a squat, ready to explode off the line like a football player under the Friday Night Lights. _Wait,_ he coached himself in his fuzzy head as he saw the gun swinging forward. Remember…it needs to be a backwards motion. _Eye on the prize!_ Here it comes…

"What the f…" Tucker lurched forward as the gun flew out of his hand. Off balance, he kept going until he crashed against the row of cabinets where Greg had been sitting.

Greg stopped his forward momentum, twisted around and took off looking for the gun. Where had it slid? He didn't see it.

Tucker wheeled around screaming, "You son of a bitch! You were playin' me!"

Finally he saw it…the shiny silver of the pistol's handle was peeking out from under the workbench and Greg dove to reach it. "Don't move!" Trapped lying on the floor, Greg held the gun in his trembling hands. "Don't make me shoot you." Tucker's eyes were wild once more…the betrayal triggering a new wrath. "I can and I will. I've done it before!"

Tucker didn't listen.

Greg squeezed the trigger without hesitation and then squeezed it a second time. "Stop! Stay there! Don't make me kill you!" Greg pleaded as he saw the bullets had ripped holes in each of Tucker's legs sending him crashing to the floor from the pain. "Stay down, Tucker! I don't want to kill you!" While holding the gun in his tremoring right hand he used his left to prop himself up and scurry backwards. But before he could get to his feet he crashed into a pile of wood and it spilled on top of him, startling him and causing him to drop the gun. "Get off me!" He wrestled with the large pieces of wood uncertain where Tucker was at the moment. "Get off me!"

"Greg!" Nick shouted as he flew down the stairs followed by Warrick. They had heard the two shots but didn't see him. "Greg!"

"I'm over here!" He screamed from his position hidden behind the workbench staring at Tucker, who was attempting to reach him using his upper body strength to drag himself the across the floor. "Over here! I can't find my gun!" When he saw Tucker making progress he started heaving for breath. "Hurry!"

"You bastard!" Tucker raged while slithering towards Greg. "You were lying to me the whole time!"

"Shut up and stay down!" Greg screamed with the last supply of air in his lungs. In a gasp he refilled them. "SHUT UP!"

"We've got him!" Nick assured his buddy. "You can relax. Try to catch your breath."

"You're a dead man, Greg!" Tucker roared, "Do you hear me! You're dead!"

Greg lowered his head and covered his ears. "Shut up…shut up! Make him shut up."

With their weapons drawn Nick and Warrick stood over Tucker.

"All clear! Send in the troops." Warrick shouted so they'd hear it through the cellphone. Funneling his body weight into the boot slammed against Tucker's upper back Warrick said, "Nick, I've got him…this stoner's all talk at this point. You check on Greg." He could see he was hanging on by a thread and reacting more emotionally every time Tucker screamed at him, which he was doing relentlessly.

"I will fucking haunt you till the day you die, Man! And when you die I'll see you in hell! You know you're going there!"

**Command Center**

Cath threw her arms around Grissom's neck. "I know you hate public displays of affection, but I need a hug and I'm not hugging Brass because I don't want Lady Heather kicking my ass for touching her man."

"Greg's okay." Grissom returned the hug because he needed it too. "He's okay," He repeated to assure himself. "Give me your phone so I can call Sara to bring Tawny down the road."

**Hughes Residence**

"Greggo…" Nick came up and knelt beside him, tossing pieces of wood out of the way. "Don't listen to Tucker, listen to me." He put his hands on his shoulders. "Look at me." He tossed on his warmest smile. "You were great, Bro. We heard everything over the phone. You were brilliant every step of the way."

Bordering on hysterics, Greg rambled, "I did everything you said. I had my eye on the prize. It worked just like you said. I kept thinking of Tawny. I have a picture of her ring in my pocket. I kept thinking of putting it on her finger. I kept thinking of the babies. I was looking for a way to make the winning play. You were in my head…Gris was in my head. It all came together. Are you proud of me?"

Nick helped him sit up and rest gently against the wall. "I'm really proud of you."

Tucker released a series of inhuman groans as the EMTs arrived and the cops restrained him. "Look what that bastard did to me! He shot my legs! He made me a god damn cripple! I'm gonna rip your stick legs right off your body you lying sack of shit!"

"Focus on me not him, Greggo."

"I played defensive tackle and running back all in one game." Holding his tears in check, he gripped Nick's arm. "I did it…I really did…I caught it in the end zone with three seconds left."

"Playing offense and defense in the same game…you're a better man than me." Nick's eyes were overflowing approval. "You want two Aggie girls in your bed tonight? Cause I have Alumni connections at A&M and some frequent flier miles to get them out here."

"No…" His emotions getting the better of him he whispered, "I just want one from Kansas. I want Tawny."

"That's what I figured." Nick winked and told him, "She's fine and the babies are too. Sara's with her just a little ways down the road. I promise I'll take you to her, but first we need to lay low here while they remove Tucker. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Upon hearing his name Tucker fumed, "This isn't over, you son of bitch! Do you hear me, Greg! You think that beating you told me about hurt, that's nothing compared to what I'm gonna do to you!"

"He kicked me in the back…it's throbbing, but not serious." He winced from the pain and Tucker's endless stream of curses.

"He's wrong, Greg," Nick assured him in a steady voice. "He's getting life without parole for what he did to Brittany. We've got him on child rape, murder, attempted murder, kidnapping with special circs…he's done. You'll never see him again. So just let it go." He patted Greg's shoulder. "Hey, I have to be your boss here for a minute…we need to get you to the hospital for some x-rays…and some paperwork."

"After I spend some time with Tawny."

Nick made a counteroffer. "She can ride with you in the ambulance to the hospital and hold your hand the whole time we're there."

"Okay…" Greg agreed because he was too exasperated to argue. "After this nightmare, I shouldn't question you."

Convinced everything was under control with Tucker, Warrick walked over, tucking Greg's cellphone, which was still on, in his shirt pocket. When he crouched on the opposite side of Greg from Nick he remarked, "I think you're the first CSI in history to save his ass by smoking weed with a suspect. I'm beyond impressed with your creativity and your success. I'm also bummin' you switched from Grave to Days because there's always room for a hero on my shift."

"No take backs! He's all mine." Still trying to distract him from Tucker's wrathful language, Nick teased, "Hey Greg, remember what I told you this morning when I was giving you shit about always relying on your mommy to save your ass?"

Breathing rhythmically to calm himself down Greg jaggedly replied, "You said um…one of these days I should really try saving my own ass." The words brought a smile to his face while he was trying to get a grip and ignore the viciousness pouring from Tucker's mouth as he was carted up the stairs strapped to a stretcher.

"Damn…you didn't waste any time showing me you could do it." Nick nodded approvingly. "You put your mommy out of a job today, Pal."

Warrick proudly explained, "I'd expect nothing less from a Scandinavian Bad Ass."

Greg half laughed, half cried.

"Okay, Tucker's gone…just calm down," Nick assured him. "Just keep breathing."

An EMT came over. "Do I need to grab another stretcher?"

Nick smiled at Greg as he gripped his right arm. "Do Warrick and I need to tell you how this works, or have you at least seen it in sports movies?"

Warrick took Greg's left arm, and in sync with Nick, helped the newest legend in town to his feet. "Unless you're dead or paralyzed…**always **walk off the field. Makes the chicks melt right there in the stands."

"You walk off limping and smiling," Nick added. "You let your teammates assist if necessary."

Warrick volleyed back, "There's plenty of time to collapse in the locker room. Tell him the best part, Slick."

"And after that there's plenty of time for a bodacious babe to kiss whatever hurts."

Greg looked at the EMT. "I've got it, thanks." He let Nick and Warrick help him to the stairs. Once there he grabbed the rail and started up.

Warrick grinned, "He needs a jock nickname."

"You know the weed has to come into play." Nick pondered the possibilities.

"Give me a minute, I'll come up with something." Warrick started thinking. "Hey…how about Roach?"

"Gris will love that one," Greg blurted as he slowly climbed the stairs. "Is he okay?"

Warrick kept it real. "He's messed up. The guilt is killing him." Knowing the phone was still on he asked, "More importantly, how are you feeling about Grissom?"

**Command Central**

**Gris**** didn't think I'd be in danger when he left. And I wanted to stay. **

**So, you're not pissed at him?**

**No. But I'm never staying alone in the field again when I'm not supposed to. Rules are Rules, Bro.**

**Stop it, Greg, you're gettin' Nicky hot talking like that. Carrie doesn't need competition. **

**It's not worth the hassle…I wouldn't gain any closet space if I traded in Carrie for Greg. **

**He has just as many pairs of colorful shoes as her. **

"They're laughing," Catherine announced with relief from her position on the front lawn of the house. "A very good sign. And Greg's not holding a grudge, Gil."

"Not because I don't deserve it," Grissom sighed as he picked up his phone. "He's not holding a grudge because that's not who he is."

Just then, Catherine saw Sara approaching with Tawny. "And now for my favorite part of the story…the hero gets the girl." She winked at Gil. "You get one too even though you broke the rules."

After shutting off his cell so the guys could have their privacy, Grissom turned to look for Sara, and when he saw her smile his shattered confidence healed. She was the perfect sight for his tired soul. Her love was steady and unconditional.

"Where is he?" Tawny clamored to get past the personnel and over to Gil and Catherine on the enormous front lawn of the house. "When can I see him?"

"Any minute now, Honey. Keep watching the door." Catherine threw her arm around Tawny's shoulders. "Just hang with me."

Foregoing decorum, Sara wrapped her arms around her husband and gave him a hug. "I love you," She whispered for only him to hear.

"Thank you." He returned the embrace, grateful once more that she was committed to supporting him no matter what.

When Sara slipped out of his arms, Grissom approached Tawny. "I'm really sorry this happened. I hope you can forgive me."

Without saying a word she nodded. It was all she was capable of because she needed to see Greg first before believing he was out of danger.

"Is that…" Tawny shrieked when she saw the stretcher.

"No, that's the guy who was holding Greg hostage," Grissom informed her.

Everyone's attention turned to the stretcher being wheeled across the lawn and the infuriated man strapped to it. "This isn't over! When I get out, I'm tearing that bastard limb from limb! I fucking hate you, Greg! I HATE YOU! You'll pay for what you did to me! I'll make everyone pay!"

Tawny gripped Catherine tight. "That's the guy!" She shuddered at the size of him and from his hateful words. "Oh my god."

"It's okay," Catherine informed her, "He's never getting out of prison so he won't be able to touch Greg."

While everyone was focused on Tucker Mifflin, Sara returned her gaze to the front door. "They're coming out!"

When Tawny saw Greg flanked by Warrick and Nick she took off running.

"Don't run!" Catherine screamed, remembering her tearing across the Grissoms' backyard. "You'll worry him!"

When Warrick saw Tawny sprinting towards them he grinned. "And a gorgeous cheerleader is rushing the field to get first dibs." Along with Nick he helped him down the last step.

"Greg!" Tawny shouted upon approach with her arms stretched wide. "I want a hug!"

"Don't run! You could trip!" He screamed. "She's always running." And while he successfully kept his emotions in check until then, the second he saw tears streaming down Tawny's face Greg welled up and his tears spilled over.

Nick and Warrick walked away leaving the job of holding Greg for Tawny.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Greg choked out as he buried his face in the nape of her neck, clinging to her for dear life. "I was so scared I thought I'd never see our babies. It feels so good to hold you."

"It's okay now…you're okay," She soothed, struggling to keep her emotions under control and be strong for him. "Are you hurt? You look like you're in pain."

"I got kicked in the back…" He sniffled as he moved to look into her eyes. "It hurts, but it's not serious. I'll probably need to take it easy for a while."

Smiling brightly as she blinked back her tears, Tawny joked, "You'll do anything not to make love to me, Greg."

"After today…I think I'll be over that fear." With his trembling hands he cupped her face. "So much and forever, Tawny."

"I love you too." Tenderly she placed a kiss on his parched lips.

"I never thought I'd get to kiss you again," He whispered when they parted. Then he noticed the ambulance had pulled up on the lawn. "Oh…my ride's here." The dull ache of his exhausted body powered his words. "I can't wait to lie down. I'm really tired…and a little wasted."

"Wasted?" She moved out of the way to let the EMT assist Greg into the back of the ambulance.

"It's a long story," He moaned as he collapsed onto the stretcher. "I'll tell you everything later, Princess."

The EMT held out his hand to assist Tawny climbing up. "My name's Steve." He thought Greg was a lucky guy for getting out of the hostage situation alive, but now that he saw Tawny…he knew Greg was doubly blessed.

"Thanks, Steve." Now that she was certain Greg would be fine, Tawny lashed out. "When we get home later, Gregory Hojem Sanders, I'm going to chew you out for going into work in the first place and then going into the field when you weren't supposed to!"

"Uh oh." Steve laughed as he readied the blood pressure cuff. "Just when you thought you were safe, Greg."

"Yeah…" Tawny huffed, "And after I'm through with him I'm telling **your mother**."

Greg released a tortured groan…and not from the pain in his back.

On the sidelines, Nick, Warrick, Gil, Catherine, Sara and Brass had watched the loving reunion in silence until Greg and Tawny disappeared into the back of the ambulance.

While Catherine discussed the day's events with Warrick and Nick, Brass decided to approach Sara. "So uh…I left you a message earlier, but the day got away from me somehow and I didn't follow up."

Gil looked on wondering if should say anything, but opted to let his wife handle things on her own unless she requested him to speak up.

Lucky for Jim, Sara couldn't have been angry at that moment if her life depended on it. "It's okay…I mean the whole thing. I do think we need to talk about why I got so ticked and why you felt it necessary to hide this from me, but today's not the day. Can we agree that there's nothing ugly between us and just keep our lunch plans on Saturday to talk things through? Because hopefully by Saturday the fallout from this mess will be over and we'll be back to normal."

"That's the second best plan I've heard all day," Brass replied to the two perplexed people standing before him. "Sorry…I have to give the best plan of the day award to Greg for getting the guy pointing a gun at him stoned." The ring of cell ended their laughter. "You all better duck, because the shit's about to hit the fan. It's Burdick."

"United we stand, Jim," Catherine replied. "Take the call, we've got your back."

"Then he'll most likely aim for my nuts."

Warrick couldn't resist. "Maybe Lady Heather can watch those for you."

Laughing hard, Catherine elbowed her man who knew she preferred to release her tension humorously. "I really needed that laugh."

"Thank goodness I'm here for your amusement." With that, Brass clicked on the phone. "Burdick…you got my message I see..."

Grissom watched his friend take his heat. "It should be my ass being chewed." When he felt Sara's hand on his back he breathed a little easier.

As he watched Brass react to the reaming, Nick said, "Being the Assistant Director has its disadvantages. No doubt they're going to hand him a bill for all this equipment and personnel we didn't use and expect him to make it up in the budget."

"Maybe I can offer to reimburse the county?" Grissom wondered out loud. "I mean, that's what's expected when someone has to be rescued due to their own stupidity, right? The county sends bills to reckless people all the time. Like motorists who don't heed the flooded road signs, or climbers who get stuck on mountains without the proper equipment and need to be choppered out. It might work."

Catherine burst out laughing. "Listen to Daddy Warbucks solving problems with his wallet. I love it actually. It's so _Nouveau Grissom_."

When Brass snapped his phone closed he rejoined the group. "Grissom …you get to come to the Sheriff's office with me and I have a feeling you'll be getting an unpaid vacation. Burdick has Sofia, our personable Quality Control Officer, meeting Greg and Nick at the hospital to take their statements."

Nick snapped, "He can't even let the guy recover before he has to be hassled?"

Brass droned, "Are you talking about yourself and your reluctance to spend quality time with Sofia…or are you worried about Sanders?

"No doubt he's talking about himself." Warrick had to laugh. "Hey, let Greg answer the questions while he's stoned. He'll be really laid back about this whole mess."

As Brass retrieved his car keys from his pocket he instructed, "Give your hubby a kiss for luck, Sara. Then we have to go. Nick, call me from the hospital with a Chuckles update."

"Will do, Boss." When Nick saw the ambulance pulling away he started for his Tahoe. "And don't worry, after a little TLC from Tawny, I'm sure Chuckles will be back to clowning around in no time."

"Good luck," Sara whispered in her husband's ear. "Just remind them that you work for peanuts and most importantly…" She smiled brightly as she murmured Gil's famous line to her. "The lab needs you." But she followed up with, "But not as much as I do."

"I'll call you." Feeling stronger from his wife's words, Grissom took off walking for his car.

"I'll answer!" She yelled after him and when he turned to face her she flashed the _I__ love you_ sign and mouthed _no matter what happens_.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Losing It - Part 17 

**Posting:** Late Friday

**Teaser:** There's a new Sheriff in town and he wants answers!

Thanks for reading and commenting,

Maggs


	17. Losing It Part 17

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

**Chapter 88: Losing It – Part 17**

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****Summerlin**** Hospital and Medical Center  
****5:52 p.m. **

Tawny and Nick trailed behind Greg's stretcher which was being pushed down the hall of the ER by EMT Steve Fosse.

"He fell asleep two minutes into the ride here, "Tawny informed Nick. "He's beat. I hope this doesn't take too long. I just want to get him home."

"Don't worry," He assured her knowing she was still in shock herself. "They'll give him the red carpet treatment because of the ordeal he's been through. They've heard there was something going on and know he's the guy who was held hostage."

Nurse Ginny Campbell, a twenty-four year old blonde with a beach-worthy tan and a sunny smile, directed the EMT, "Curtain four, thanks."

As they hung back waiting down across the hall for Greg to be transferred to the bed, Nick said under his breath, "Looks like Greggo's got himself a hottie for a nurse. That'll wake him up." Then he realized he made the comment out loud with Tawny standing next to him. "Uh…not that it matters what she looks like." He glanced over at Tawny and explained, "In the** past **it would have mattered is all I'm saying…but not now. Now he won't even notice."

"But you noticed," Tawny teased.

"But not for me…for Greg." He cringed while he laughed. "Not that I think Greg should want her or that you aren't hot enough for him…because you're **much** hotter than her…not that I'm lookin' at either of you that way or that hotness is the only criteria for…hell, if I dig this hole a little deeper it can be my grave. I'm shutting up now."

"She's a babe, Nick." Tawny laughed at him. "I don't expect Greg or you to lose your sight just because you're monogamous. Hot blooded males will always notice sexy women."

From behind a female voice added, "And you know what hot blooded women will always notice…" When they turned to face her, Sofia finished her statement. "…sexy men." She smirked at Nick. "Like that doctor over there…" She pointed. "Yowza."

"Good, you're here. I've been counting the minutes," Nick huffed. "Let's just get this over with so…"

"Excuse me…" Nurse Campbell interrupted. "Are you Nick?"

"Yes." He turned towards her.

"Mr. Sanders has requested you help undress him so he can put on his hospital gown."

"He did?" Nick prodded.

"Yes, he specifically said only you and no other visitors at this time. He's behind curtain four." She smiled sweetly as she patted the concerned man's arm. "Don't worry, with a little TLC your partner will be just fine. I'll be back in a few."

Tawny stood gaping at Nick who in a dumbfounded tone remarked, "He must be a little more stoned than we thought."

Shrugging, Sofia tossed in her two cents. "I don't know…near death experiences can cause a person to make some big changes in their lifestyle."

"What!" Tawny shrieked.

Nick stared at curtain four across the hall. "I'll uh…see what's going on." Confused, he wandered over and peeled back the curtain. "Uh…Greggo…the nurse said …"

"Come in here and shut the curtain! Now!" Frantic, Greg yanked out the folded photo of Tawny's future engagement ring. "I didn't want Tawny to see this…it's the picture of the diamond I bought her. Check it out real quick and tell me what you think, Bro."

Realizing that the paranoia-inducing effects of marijuana can take up to five hours to wear off, he understood Greg's panic. While taking the paper he said, "Oh, you should know…Sofia is here to interview both of us because the Sheriff can't wait to blame someone for this mess. Not that I think you have anything to worry about." Looking up from the paper he smiled wide. "Hell, after this incident you could give Tawny the prize from a Cracker Jack box and she'd love it, but this ring will take her breath away. Very nice choice, I'm impressed."

"Cool." Greg relaxed against the hospital linens. "Now would you ask Tawny to come in and help me because I really am too sore to undress on my own?"

"Gladly." Tucking the paper in his back pocket he emerged from the curtain. "Little misunderstanding, Tawny. The herb is still talking." Nick laughed. "He wants **you** to strip him down." And when Tawny zipped past him he explained to Sofia, "Greg had a picture of the engagement ring he bought Tawny in his pocket. He didn't want her to find it when he took off his clothes."

"Sweet."

"Yeah." Scratching his head he glanced around. "Could we do this interview in the cafeteria? I need somethin' to drink."

"How nostalgic…having drinks together." Smirking, she pointed to the left and started walking. "I've been to this hospital before, I'll lead the way."

"You taking the lead without asking…" He grumped as he followed her down the hall. "…not a surprise."

With ease she retorted, "You being intolerant of a woman in the lead however, comes as no surprise to me."

Stopping in the hall he stuffed his hands on his hips and postured. "Look…I've had a rough day and I'm not in the mood for games."

Halting in front of Nick, Sofia mused, "Now** that's** nostalgic."

_When the door to Sofia's apartment opened she and Nick stumbled into the living room. _

_"Wait…" Trying to catch his breath from laughing Nick asked, "Did you pay for the cab? Cause I don't recall…" _

_"You didn't pay for it?" _

_"Pay for what?" He burst out laughing again. "How'd we get here?" Holding onto the wall he steadied his drunken body. "Damn…I'm trashed. We really shouldn't have done this again." _

_"Shouldn't have done what again? Drink? Take a taxi?" She threw her purse towards the entry table but missed. "Or come back to my place to knock boots?" _

_"Ma'am…" Faking sincerity he held his hand over his heart. "I'm just being a gentleman and escorting you to your door. I have no intention of staying and would never expect to participate in the vulgar activity you described a moment ago." _

_"That's what you said last time right before you dropped your pants and had your way with me up against the wall…not that I minded." Chuckling, she meandered through her living room and at the entrance to her bedroom beckoned, "Are you coming?" _

_"In spite of the excess tequila I consumed, I think I can manage to…yes." Grinning, he weaved across the room to join her and when he reached the doorway, he pulled her close, running his hands over her back. "You feel tense. Tough day at the office?" _

_"Ghastly." Intoxicated by his smile Sofia purred, "I definitely need a release. Think you can help me with that?"_

_Walking her backwards to the bed he replied, "From the noise you were making the last time we hooked up, I believe I've already proven I can." _

_A bang on the front door interrupted the mood. "HEY! You wanna give me my fare! You said you would be right out. I know this is the right apartment because I see your purse and recognize it, lady!" _

_"We left the door open." Sofia chortled, "You really did forget to pay the cabbie." She pointed at him. "Thief!" _

_"You wait right here, little lady." Grabbing his wallet Nick hustled out of the bedroom and when he returned two minutes later Sofia was on the bed stripped down to her black satin undergarments. "Starting the party without me?" _

_She patted the mattress and eyed him like prey. "I'm in law enforcement so I don't usually mingle with bad boys who stiff cab drivers but, I'll make an exception today if you promise to do exactly as I say." _

_"I'll try my best," He smarmily remarked while shucking his blue sweater and sliding on the bed next to her. _

_"I've got a little something that will help keep you in line." Grinning, she revealed the shiny pair of silver handcuffs she was hiding under a pillow. _

_"What are those for?" He asked in a surprised tone._

_She let her answer glide off her tongue while reaching for his hand. "Your wrists of course." _

_Pulling his hand away Nick informed her, "No, thanks…I do my best work unrestrained." _

_"That's the thing…you** always** do the brunt of the work. I want a turn…it's only fair." Tossing her long blonde hair off her shoulder she moved to straddle him. "So just lay back and do what I say, Bad Boy." When he jerked away Sofia blurted, "What the hell?"_

_"This…" Bolting off the bed he glanced around to locate his shirt. "I need to go." _

_"Now?"__ She gaped at him while he pulled on his shirt. "You come to my place, toss your shirt, climb into bed with me and THEN you tell me you need to go? What the hell, Stokes!" She laughed. "Oh…I get it. You don't enjoy a woman calling the shots in bed. You wanted to play the same old game." _

_"What?" He straightened out his sweater and in a tequila haze, steadied himself by holding onto her dresser. "No, that's not it, I don't know why…" _

_"What? Admit it…a good 'ol boy like you just can't handle a woman in control of the action." Dangling the cuffs she joked, "You would love playing cop, snapping these around my wrists, and telling me to spread 'em…but not the other way around." Seeing his perplexed expression she continued the taunt, "Prove me wrong." Sofia opened one of the cuffs. "Come on…show me you believe in equal rights and aren't just another closed-minded boy from the ranch…" Leaving the bed she strutted tipsily towards him. "I promise you'll enjoy it." _

Even though his reflexes were a little slow, Nick managed to move his hand just in time to escape the steel aimed at his wrist. "Hey! I'm not in the mood for games, so back off!"

_Thrusting her index finger toward her bedroom door she snapped, "And suddenly I'm not in the mood for you, so get the hell out of my apartment!" _

_"Exactly what I was planning on doing," He informed her while hustling out of the room._

_Pissed off and piss drunk she shouted, "And don't think you're ever coming here **ever** again you chauvinistic…control-freak…asshole!" _

_"Not a problem!" He yelled before walking through the front door, slamming it behind him. _

"Nick!" Sofia called out as she snapped her fingers. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I uh…" He started walking. "I just realized you remind me of someone…same hair…same voice...same attitude…never mind." At the time it happened he didn't know why she freaked him out, but now it was crystal clear. "Let's just focus on the business at hand."

"At the risk of sounding too aggressive for you, I'm going to point out you're walking the wrong way."

"Shit." He stopped, turned and in a frustrated voice asked, "Fine…which way is it?"

Observing his body language Sofia stated, "All kidding aside, I think you have a problem."

"Oh you do, huh?"

"Yeah…I do." Sofia lowered her voice. "Look…from what I've heard, I don't believe you have any culpability in this incident with Greg and I don't expect my opinion to change once I interview the two of you. But, Nick, I did my research when the Sheriff called me. Considering what happened to you on the scene yesterday, what I witnessed last night, the fact that people saw you storm out of the lab this morning and take off running down the road, the emotional display with Grissom at the scene earlier, and because you look like your head is about to explode over a little harmless banter between ex-screw buddies…I'd be remiss if I didn't say I wasn't highly concerned. Exactly how many times have you lost it in the last thirty-six hours, Nick?"

Not amused by her line of questioning he snipped, "I'd hardly call the last thirty-six hours typical circumstances and I'm working on four hours of sleep because I spent half the night dealing with that pervert from..."

"It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, you need to be in control at all times. You have a department issued firearm on your belt. You're not at liberty to lose it." Sighing she informed him, "I'm making a recommendation…for your own good."

"What's that?" He folded his arms and waited for her verdict.

"I think you're mentally maxed out," She declared. "I'm recommending mandatory personal leave time. According to your file you have seven weeks. I'm suggesting in my report that you use one."

"No." Shaking his head he pursed his lips. "And Brass won't make me."

"I hate to break it to you but…" She smiled warmly. "You don't have the authority here…I do. And not even Jim Brass will be able to deny your instability and go against my written recommendation. Not after today's rule-breaking incident. If he ignores my report and you make an error tomorrow it would be the end of his career. Sorry…I'm recommending the Relief Crew be brought in because Greg will be out on medical and when I checked the calendar, Jas already has approved vacation time for her brother's wedding."

"You know what…" He tossed his hands in the air. "I think that's a great idea. Carrie was just askin' if I would take some time off and why the hell wouldn't I want to spend quality time with my fiancée? Thanks, Sofia…I'm thrilled. You're the best. Now, by all means, lead me to the cafeteria. All I want to do is get some iced tea, answer your damn questions, check in on Greg, and then head back to the lab get my stuff and my car, so I can go home and sleep. Will that work for ya? Is that submissive enough?"

"Keep it up and I'm recommending two weeks not one." Turning, she headed towards the cafeteria. "Are you coming?"

"Oh yeah!" Secretly relieved at being forced off the job he sounded off, "I'm even letting you buy my iced tea because I'm such a progressive guy."

Switching her red leather briefcase to her left hand she groaned, "You used to be a fun guy. What happened?"

"I grew up."

**Sheriff Burdick's Office  
****6:04 p.m. **

Sheriff Burdick sat behind his oak desk eyeing the two men there to grovel before him. "Grissom, did you know Greg Sanders' rank when you chose to leave him without a partner in the field?"

"Yes," He answered factually. "I was Greg's direct supervisor when he requested a transfer from DNA and, after passing his proficiencies, I hired him for Graveyard shift as a CSI I. He's not eligible for a promotion until March 2006."

"Did you know he had a flagged file?"

Maintain the proper level of contriteness he fielded the question. "Yes, I'm the one who flagged it."

Brass breathed in deep waiting for the axe to fall.

"When you told Sanders you were leaving the scene what did he say?"

"He said…" Grissom thought back and wished he could make a different choice. "He said…I'm not allowed to be out in the field alone because I'm a CSI I with a flagged file."

"At the time you made your decision were you aware that department procedure mandates supervision for Level I's in the field and that a Level I with a flagged file is only allowed to be in the field with a CSI III with a mentor certification or a supervisor?"

"Yes…" Grissom somberly nodded. "I was aware of that procedure at the time I made the decision."

"Then why did you make the decision you did?"

Brass sat quietly, hoping Gil would knock it out of the park.

He answered the question calmly and honestly. "I had faith that Greg could handle the simple tasks I assigned him and I did not perceive the situation to be dangerous because the occupants of the home were not suspects of the crime and there was an armed and experienced officer guarding the house. May I point out that if I had remained at the scene, the officer still would have been attacked and instead of having just Greg in jeopardy in the basement, I would have been there too? If Tucker had seen two of us, who knows what he may have done? In the agitated mental state he was in, anything is possible. He could have overpowered one of us, taken a gun and shot us all immediately. The outcome could have been worse if I had remained or it may have been better, there's no way of knowing."

Deciding to move on, Burdick asked, "Why did you leave?"

After clearing his throat, he continued to explain, "A promising lead was called into me and my focus was on capturing Brittany Thomas's killer. I wanted him off the streets because my experience was telling me he was already planning his next rape and murder…which as we now know was a correct assumption."

Brass interjected, "He was thinking of the taxpayers and the safety of their children. And may I remind you, he took a drastic cut in pay when he took this position."

Grissom rolled his eyes, wishing Brass wouldn't lay the bullshit on quite so thick.

"Do you know how much money the taxpayers will be spending to cover the tab for dragging out the bomb squad, a fire battalion, sharpshooter, seven squad cars and two ambulances?"

Brass shrugged, "Ballpark? I'd say it has to be less than the value of the next victim's life. The killer is off the streets because of this incident. We all would have liked it to have been done in a different manner, but the end result can't be denied. Gil is also willing, as a courtesy, to reimburse the county for all expenses incurred."

"You're lucky Greg Sanders didn't die in the process." Burdick shoved a file in Brass's direction. "I may be new, but I did my homework. Sanders was already a victim due to Grissom's lack of control over his personnel. Catherine Willows blew up the lab and Sanders paid the price then as well…third degree burns on his back. His mother was going to sue the county."

"Until Gil talked her out of it," Brass informed the Sheriff.

Changing topics Burdick snapped, "What are your defined supervisory responsibilities in your position as Master Criminalist?"

"I don't have any defined responsibilities," Grissom candidly replied, "We're in the process of defining them."

Burdick rocked back in his oversized chair. "So Atwater approved a job position without a description?"

Brass offered, "Maybe we should blame him and call it a day. You could call him in Fort Lauderdale and ask if he wants to return for a post-retirement ass-chewing. He may agree if you toss in some casino comps."

"You're pretty cocky, Jim," Burdick stated on a sigh.

"I have to be to do the job I do, don't you think?" He shrugged, "A wimpy guy who cowers at the feet of a big dog really doesn't do his people any good. You know how it works. So let's not beat around the bush…Grissom is critical to the lab…"

"That's how he's been able to get away with everything over the years."

"No, he's why the lab has been so successful over the years," Brass countered.

"We'll test your theory," Burdick announced as he rose from his chair to loom. "Mr. Grissom…you're suspended for the next five days. We'll see how the lab does without you and then I'll decide if Mr. Brass is correct."

"Fair enough." Grissom stood and nodded. "For the record…the last thing I'd ever want is for the lab, its employees or the people of Clark County to suffer. So while I know it would look good for me to have the place fall apart…it's not what I'm hoping for, Sheriff. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm heading back to my office to collect my things and begin my suspension." As he walked out he politely said, "Have a good evening."

Jim stood staring at the Sheriff. "What about me?"

"I'll be watching you."

"Thank you for the warning." Brass nodded before turning to leave. At the door he muttered under his breath, "I'll make sure to wipe my ass twice." And as he strolled out he thought, we'll see how the lab does with Gil suspended, Greg on medical leave, Jas on vacation, and Nick on the personal leave I'm going to force him to take.

As he strolled down the hall, Jim wondered…how can I make it even worse? Then it hit him. Grabbing his cell he punched in Sara's number and when she answered he jovially said, "Sara…if your husband were to come home and tell you he was on vacation until Monday wouldn't you want to be on vacation too? Surely there must be something fun the two of you could do to pass the time."

**Summerlin**** Hospital and Medical Center  
****Cafeteria  
****6:11 p.m. **

At a corner table in the cafeteria, Sofia held a pen in one hand and a cup of Diet Dr. Pepper in the other. "Ready?"

With a shit-eating grin, Nick lowered his cup and enthusiastically replied, "Chomping at the bit like my horse Derringer used to when he saw me headin' over with my riding boots on."

"Does Carrie enjoy the cowboy talk?" From her briefcase she selected the appropriate form.

"Well…" He folded his hands and sat up nice and tall. "…she's wearing my ring so I'm guessin' she don't mind it too much, Ma'am." Glancing over at the paperwork she was grabbing he joked, "Seems like a strange question for a department inquiry."

"I like Carrie," Sofia stated as she placed the form on the table.

"What a coincidence, me too."

"We made lunch plans for next week."

His shoulders slumped. "Why?"

"To compare notes on sex with you." She choked on her drink when she saw his reaction. "I don't expect it to be a **lengthy** conversation." When she saw his tense expression she rolled her eyes. "Calm down…we're having lunch because I provided testimony on a case her co-worker Clive Braxley lost. She wants my opinion on how he handled it. She, like me, thinks Braxley is a Grade-A Asshole and I'm hoping to give her some stuff she can use against him."

"Oh." He relaxed.

Readying her pen Sofia asked the first question. "Okay, what was the last contact you had with Greg prior to the incident?"

Grateful to get to the formalities he responded with enthusiasm, "I sat with him in the conference room that morning to review what he was working on."

"Which was?"

"Vendor contracts for the craft market where the vic's ladybug dress was purchased and the customer information book was lifted."

"And your supervisory advice to him was?"

Glancing up he recalled his words. "I told him to have at it…meaning the analysis of the vendor contracts, and then I ordered him to stay out of the field. Reason being he was working on two hours of sleep and under duress because he was at the ER all night with Tawny thinking she was miscarrying."

"I knew that because he contacted me when he got home and asked me to get his stuff from Hodges." She jotted her notes. "That was a good call."

"Thanks." He shifted nervously in his chair.

"Where were you when Grissom ordered Greg into the field?"

"Processing a case with Pete," He replied. "When I returned to the lab I asked Jas where Greg was and she told me she thought he went to grab a bite. I didn't attempt to track him down before I left the building for lunch myself. I spent my lunch hour at the courthouse with Carrie and was on my way to a scene when I got the call about Greg from Jim."

"Sofia!" A nurse in her fifties approached and held out her arms. "How are you, Sweetie? You look great."

"Stella." Sofia jumped up and embraced her. "I'm doing well. Sorry I haven't visited in a while."

"It's okay." Stella smiled. "It's understandable. You spent enough time here. Wow…I'd love to stay and catch up, but I'm due back in the ICU in two minutes. Take care of yourself, Honey. Okay?"

Nick watched the exchange with curious eyes.

"I will, Stella. Nice seeing you." She returned to her chair and picked up her pen. "Sorry for the interruption."

"Were you a patient here for a while?" Then he realized the inappropriateness of the question. "Sorry…that's the CSI in me talking. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, I was a visitor, not a patient." Studying his puzzled expression she sighed, "My kid brother was the patient. He was in a coma for a long time and then he died. I spent a lot of time here and got to know the nurses. Does that satisfy your curiosity enough to focus?"

"Sorry to hear about your brother. Really, I didn't mean to pry." But his curiosity got the best of him again. "How long ago?"

"Six years ago and I never talk about him that's why you don't know." She grimaced. "What? Just because you know my body intimately doesn't mean you know everything about me. You don't know me at all."

"How did it happen?"

After a deep breath she replied, "One day he called to talk. I told him I was too busy working and I'd stop by later. I didn't know he was holding a cup of pills when he was calling. He was already in a coma when I found him. Now you know why I refuse to spend every waking hour at the lab and why I think it's important not to get consumed by the job."

"Look…" Leaning in he spoke softly. "I'm uh…I'm really sorry about what happened that night between us. It was a shitty thing for me to do without offering an explanation…I um…I wasn't in the mood for what you were demanding and instead of being polite about it…because I was piss drunk and had some stuff going on in my head that I didn't quite understand at the time, I was an ass."

Sofia sipped her drink while listening intently.

Anxious, he glanced around to see if they were still alone. "You didn't do anything wrong…you had every right to make demands after I called the shots the other times and you were just trying to have some fun. It was all me, not you. But to quote you from last night…please don't ask me why because I don't want to discuss it. So I would appreciate it if you would take my apology and leave it at that."

With a straight face she asked, "Is this sudden apology due to you feeling sorry for me over the loss of my brother or because you're worried about what I'll say to your fiancée? Or both?"

"Honestly? A little of both and then some." He sat back. "You mentioning your brother reminded me that you're human. Carrie liking you means you can't be a bad person, because she is an excellent judge of character. And recently…I've figured out some things about myself that help shed some light on why I behaved the way I did that night."

"I accept your apology," Raising her cup she smile lightly. "Let's drink to putting it behind us."

"Thank you." Feeling his load a little less burdened he bumped his cup to hers. "To putting it behind us."

**Curtain 4  
****6:41 p.m. **

Nurse Ginny Campbell returned with a sunny smile plastered on her face. "Has the Percocet kicked in yet, Mr. Sanders?"

"Just call me Greg," He remarked in a chipper tone. "Mr. Sanders is my daddy and he's a bit of a stiff."

"Oh, it's kicked in alright." Tawny probed, "How much Percocet did you give him? And where was I when you did?" At least she had an explanation for the sudden increase in Greg's loopiness.

"10mg and you were using the restroom." The nurse wondered why the girlfriend looked so concerned. "He didn't say he had a problem taking…."

"No… that's not it. He already had something in his system." Smiling at her man, Tawny teased, "Looks like you'll be flying twice in one day, Chuckles."

"I'm feeling fine, Princess T."

"What did he have in his system?" The nurse's concern grew.

"He inhaled some marijuana smoke while being held hostage."

"There's no contraindication for those two drugs." Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "For the record, I did ask him if he was taking any other meds."

After kissing her overly medicated man on the cheek Tawny whispered in his ear, "I need to use the restroom again, I'll be right back."

"Oooh! Can you score me some food?" He patted his belly repeatedly. "That packet of crackers isn't holding me."

"Sure thing, Chuckles." Tawny winked. "Be back soon."

"Chuckles?" Ginny curiously repeated.

"Cause I'm a funny guy." Greg unfurled a goofy smile and stared at the nurse.

"Knock Knock…" Sofia called from the other side of the curtain. "Are you decent in there, Greg? It's Sofia."

"Come on in!" Feeling no pain, Greg sat up and when Sofia stood on the opposite side of the bed from the sexy blonde nurse he whooped, "This dream keeps getting better." That's when he saw Nick slip through the curtain. "Nicky! Check it out…I've got two Aggie girls in my bedroom just like you promised."

Nick immediately asked the nurse, "How is he getting more stoned as time passes?"

"I gave him 10mg of Percocet," She explained. "Most people pass out from it, but around ten percent have the opposite reaction and experience euphoria and an exaggerated feeling of well-being."

"It figures Greg would be abnormal," Nick groaned. "These are not co-eds from Texas, Greg. One is a nurse and one is your co-worker, Sofia."

Sofia pulled an inquiry form from her briefcase. "This should be pointless."

"Does he have a diagnosis yet?" Nick inquired.

"Yeah…I got my ass kicked…literally!" Greg flipped over and let his gown part. "Check out what that big bully did to me, Bro."

"Good thing he left his boxers on," Sofia remarked in a laugh. "Bright green and yellow polka dots….very befitting for a big tough hero."

Nick saw the top half of a boot imprint above the waistband of Greg's boxers. "We need to photo that boot print, Greggo. May as well tack assault to Tucker's charges. I'll grab my kit." As he turned he bumped into Tawny. "Sorry…I need to go get my camera to take a picture of your man's ass."

"Um…okay." Tawny took the nurse's place at Greg's bedside after Ginny followed Nick out of the room.

Sofia started her questions. "Greg…do you remember what Nick's orders were to you this morning when he spoke to you while you were processing vendor contracts for the craft market.?"

"Yep!" When he saw Tawny holding a bag of Cheetos and a can of Coke he lit up. "I love you, Princess…because you remembered I like** crunchy** Cheetos, not puffy ones. I promise…as soon as I'm up to it, I'll make love to you for as long as you like…to whatever music you request…in whatever position you want. My piece will be at your command."

Tawny hurried to open the snack bag so Greg's mouth would be busy chewing instead of confessing his inner most thoughts."

"Can you tell me what Nick's orders were?" Sofia poised her pen while laughing at her interviewee.

"Nick's exact words were…." In his best jock impression Greg barked, "Stay out of the field. And you better listen to me punk or I'll beat your ass!"

Sofia hesitated to write the response. "Does Nick always boss you around in such a demeaning manner?"

Greg was too busy chomping Crunchy Cheetos and gulping soda to answer. When he finally did pause his snackfest he asked through orange-tinted lips, "Why do you like me so much, Sofia?" He glanced up at Tawny. "I ask her all the time but she refuses to answer."

In a bittersweet voice Sofia finally answered the question for him. "Because you remind me of my kid brother…same outrageous personality…same soulful eyes…and almost the same hair except his was blonder."

Nick popped through the crack in the curtain. "Sofia, would you mind stepping outside for this?" When she did, he instructed, "Okay Buddy, drop those clown shorts and, Tawny would you do the honors for me?" He grabbed a ruler and handed it to her. "Just place it parallel."

Greg just lay there staring at the two of them clutching his bag of Cheetos and can of Coke. "Uh…I've measured it plenty of times, can't I just tell you how long it is?"

Sofia's laughter penetrated the curtained room and joined up with Nick's and Tawny's.

Greg followed up with, "Nick…buddy…trust me on this…you don't want to be in this contest with me. Remember the pool house…Tawny saw you in your wet boxer briefs. She assures me I've got you beat by at least an inch." A smile radiated on his face. "After all…I am Chuckles the Master of Tantric Sex while you and Carrie just branched out from Missionary on Saturday. Apparently she enjoyed her time in the saddle and fear not, Little Buddy, Carrie ordered some books and she's getting ready for more. Yeah…I predict some Side by Side Clasping and Kama's Wheel coming your way reeeeeeeeeal soon. Women love those positions…it's the eye contact. If the books aren't detailed enough for you and you need tips on how to pull those off, just ask the Chuckster."

Tawny slapped her hand over Greg's mouth. "He's making stuff up."

Nick knew it at least some of it was true. "Carrie confided to you about our sex life and you told Greg?"

"No! I didn't divulge anything," She calmly told the distraught man. "Greg read about it on our computer."

"Excuse me?" Nick pushed for a better explanation. "Care to explain how the details of my sex life are on **your** computer?"

"Sara, Carrie and Tawny had an online Chick Chat. Tawny saved the transcript and I accidentally read it. I found out you snore too." Greg crumbled up his Cheetos bag, tossed it and when it landed in the trash he celebrated, "Two points! I've got this jock thing down! Hey Nick…don't worry, it's all even because Tawny dished about my misfire on position seven. Sometimes I don't have control over my piece."

From the other side of the cotton wall Sofia coughed, "Just a reminder…these walls aren't soundproof. I don't know why people always forget that in hospitals."

Seventy year old Mrs Gertz, the patient behind Curtain Three shouted, "The suspense is killing me! How big is Chuckles? And what was position was number seven?"

And since everyone else was acknowledging the fact that the conversation was loud, twenty one year old Brian Jones from Curtain Five asked, "Dude…what's the name of the sex book you were talking about? I could use some new tricks."

**Crime Lab  
****6:57 p.m. **

Grissom was sitting at his desk gathering his files on the BrittanyThomas case to pass onto Warrick when much to his surprise, Sara breezed into the room.

"Hey…" She greeted him with a loving smile.

"What are you doing here, Honey?" He felt bad. He hadn't called her and told her the news yet, but he wasn't ready to talk about it.

"I came in to submit a personal leave request. I'm not sure you're aware, but I have over a dozen weeks. For a long time I didn't take any days off because I had the hots for my supervisor and always wanted to be at work with him." Strolling over she sat on the edge of her husband's desk. "But I don't work for him anymore because one day last month I married him…" Her eyes sparkling she said, "You know…for better or worse…in good times and bad."

"You know about my suspension."

"Yeah." She met his gaze. "Since my supervisor is unavailable, Jim Brass was kind enough to approve my leave. I don't have to be back until Monday…just like you."

Reclining in his chair he sighed. "My second day on the new job and I'm suspended. Has to be a lab record, don't you think? What's the grapevine saying?"

"They're all abuzz about Greg making it out and no one is holding anything against you." In a confident tone she assured him, "The Sheriff is new and he has to stomp his foot. Everyone knows it. No one believes you'd intentionally put Greg or anyone in harms way."

"Everyone here…but what about Tawny?" He looked to Sara for advice. "Once Sofia finishes interviewing Greg and has his official statement on record, I'm allowed to speak with him. I **need **to speak with him and Tawny."

Sara checked her watch. "They're probably still at the ER. Nick said he would call Jim when they were leaving. Once he gets the call, then how about I call Nick and see if it would be a good idea?"

"Thanks, Sara." He nodded as he stood and grabbed a box for his files.

"Now how about I help you pull the casefile together for transfer?" Sliding off the edge of the desk she smirked. "We can pretend it's like old times." She elbowed him in the ribs. "You know what that means."

"I'll have to pretend I don't love you."

"And I'll have to pretend it doesn't bother me that you don't love me."

Gil smiled for the first time since the incident. "You never were very good at that, Sara."

"I know." Her lips curved into a beautiful smile. "And yet…it didn't get you up off your ass and asking me out."

**Summerlin**** Hospital and Medical Center  
****7:10 p.m. **

"Up you go, Buddy," Nick instructed as he hoisted Greg to the edge of the hospital bed and swung his legs off the side. "Get his jeans ready, Tawny."

"My arms feel like spaghetti," Greg remarked as he let his helpers dress him.

"It's the happy pill talking, Sweetie." Tawny snaked the pants up his legs while Nick lifted Greg out of bed. "I'm not used to putting clothes on you," She giggled. "I'm only used to ripping them off you."

Holding Greg, Nick commented, "It's good practice for dressing the babies…they'll be helpless too."

"We're having twins!" Greg euphorically announced. "Did you hear that people behind the curtains listening to everything I say?" Then he started to hum, _She's Having My Baby_.

"Here you go…" Nurse Campbell waltzed in with Greg's prescriptions and discharge instructions. "As the doctor told you, there's no serious damage to his spine or discs. Follow the instructions on these sheets for treating the inflammation. He needs to take the anti-inflammatory medication as directed and the pain medication as needed. Mr. Stokes, I've faxed all the necessary paperwork for insurance and disability to your office as you requested."

"Thanks," He replied while fetching Greg's sneakers.

Next the nurse handed Tawny a few pamphlets and since Greg was in his own world, she left him out of the conversation. "These are from the staff psychologist. Because Mr. Sanders was in shock right after the rescue, and medicated upon arrival, he hasn't coped with what's happened. These booklets describe the common side effects of trauma…behavioral, emotional and physical. Sometimes it can be pretty rough. And it may take days or weeks before he fully comes to terms with everything. Be on the lookout for sleep difficulties, nightmares if he does sleep, and hypervigilance…easily startling and edginess, which is very common for people who were attacked. Most importantly watch his mood..." The nurse smiled. "Considering he's happily singing right now I think you'll be able to recognize a negative change if it happens. You want to make sure he's not getting overwhelmed and that he's dealing rather than suppressing."

Tawny clutched all the papers and said, "Are the risks for psychological problems higher if he has any sort of history of coping poorly with heavy stress?"

Nick saw Tawny's concern mounting and said, "Don't worry, Greg already has a PEAP session scheduled for Thursday. The counselors are specialists in dealing with this type of thing. He'll have it a little rough at first but after some counseling and decompression time with you, I'm sure he'll pull through just fine. And you know Sara, Gris, Catherine, Warrick and me are all just a phone call away."

Nurse Campbell nodded, "Counseling and support from family and friends are the best ways to ensure a full recovery. Best of luck to you." She left the curtain open upon exiting.

Tawny looked up at Nick. "I only asked because he has some history…"

"He talked about it with Mifflin…it was one of the things we heard over the phone." Nick smiled reassuringly. "That was a long time ago and if fought that hard to get out of the basement I don't think any amount of emotional distress or depression could swing him that low ever again, do you?"

Shaking her head she said, "No…I can't imagine he…"

"Hey…" Greg interrupted and asked in a carefree tone, "Can we hit a buffet on the way home? I'm starving."

Tawny immediately lightened up. "I guess as long as I keep his belly full I won't have anything to worry about."

"Probably not." Helping Greg into the wheelchair left to transport him to the parking lot Nick commented, "Bro, you really aren't up to being seen in public, you're a little too medicated and a lot too smelly."

Tawny nodded and sweetly confirmed, "He's right, Honey…I think you must have sweated out every drop of water in your body at some point. You need to hit the showers, Jock."

While Greg sniffed his armpit Nick suggested, "How about I hit the drive-thru of your choice while taking you home?"

"Sonic."

"You got it."

**Crime Lab  
****7:26 p.m. **

When Grissom brought the Brittany Thomas casefile information into Warrick's office he was surprised to find it occupied. "I didn't expect you to be here this early after a trying day."

Warrick glanced up. "Hey, Gris…how you doing? I heard about the suspension."

"News certainly travels fast around here." He set the file box on one of the guest chairs. "I feel guilty people are even concerned about me when Greg is the one who had the rough day. He already paid for my mistake…it's only fitting I do too, not that a five-day vacation from here seems appropriate. If anything I should be forced to work twice as much. All I want to do is work the case so it's solid when we hand it over."

"If you spend these next five days beating yourself up because you aren't occupied with work I think you'll feel punished. It all worked out…you can ease up." Warrick motioned to his open chair. "Take a load off."

"I'm waiting for Sara…" He glanced over his shoulder. "She's on the phone with Nick seeing if Greg and Tawny are up for a visit."

"That will help."

"Yeah." Anxious, he glanced around at Warrick's new and still sparse office.

Warrick smiled. "Hey…if you really want someone to read you the riot act and feed your guilty conscience, why not call Greg's mom and tell her what happened? From what Catherine told me, Mrs. Sanders can get the job done right."

"I appreciate what you're doing." He took the seat that had been offered.

"I don't mean to make light of the situation. It's nerves talking and I guess Catherine's coping mechanism is wearing off on me." Warrick sat forward, leaning in to the conversation. "Nah…that's not it. This whole thing today has me…it has me wishing things would have worked out differently for Holly. Watching you feel so guilty when Greg is fine only makes me feel…." After breathing deep he confessed, "Here I am sitting in my new office with my new supervisory job when really I don't deserve it…I only got to stay because you refused to fire me."

"I stand by my decision, Warrick…and the work you've done since supports it too." He saw the pain in his eyes and knew the words didn't help much.

Sara's perky voice broke the silence in the office. "Just got off the phone with Nick and he said Tawny would love for you to stop by, Gil. But she said be sure and bring food and be prepared because Greg is looped on pain medication."

Warrick nodded. "Get to it, Gris. It will feel even better seeing him blissed out. And don't worry…I'll handle the case and it will be air tight."

Rising from the chair Grissom smiled. "Why do you think I gave it to you? I trust you."

"Thanks." Relaxing slightly he said, "Tell Greggo that Cath and I will be around to see him in the morning. We'll bring breakfast."

"I'll tell him." Gil walked to meet his wife at the door. "Ready?"

"Are you asking me or checking on your own status?" Sara led the way down the hall. "When we stop to get him food I want to get some balloons...the kind you can twist into animals."

"You know how to twist balloon animals?" Gil asked in surprise.

With a glint in her eye Sara replied, "There's still a lot you don't know about me."

"Well…I have five days off. Maybe I can open an investigation at home to satisfy my need to crack a case."

"Funny you should mention that because I have some ideas on how to spend our five days…"

**Greg's Apartment  
****7:52 p.m. **

While Tawny hurried for the door carrying the three large bags of takeout food from Sonic, Nick guided Greg from the parking lot into the apartment.

"Where's Carrie?" Greg asked while Nick held him by the waist as he teetered up the sidewalk. "Because you really seem to need a hug…you won't let go of me."

"She's working and I'm holdin' ya because you'll fall on your ass if I don't." Nick waited for Tawny to open the door. "Carrie's behind at work so she needs to stay late. Trust me…I wish she was in my arms instead of you because she smells a hell of a lot better…and I miss her."

"When she comes home hit her up for some of that Side-By-Side Clasping and you'll…"

"Shut up."

"Shutting up."

"Home Sweet Home." Tawny walked through the door and set the bags of food on the counter. "Let's put him on the couch since Gil and Sara will be here any minute."

"Okay, Chuckles…" Nick lugged him toward the sofa. "You ready to crash?"

"I'm ready to eat!" He glanced over his shoulder. "I want my Lime Slushie, Chicken Club Toaster sandwich, Tater Tots, Onion Rings and Coney Island Hot Dog with the works."

"I'm working on it, Baby!" Tawny shouted from the kitchen. "I need to fill this ice pack for you too."

"You emptied my wallet at the drive-thru," Nick laughed as he eased Greg onto the couch.

"Wow…you're really good at that," Greg remarked as he found himself suddenly horizontal. "The ladies must not even see that coming."

"I perfected that freshman of college, my friend."

"Can you grab a pillow from the bedroom for me?"

"Sure. You should have one under your knees too." Happy to see Greg looking relaxed Nick teased, "You got a favorite stuffed animal in there you want me to bring ya?"

"Mr. Peebles."

"Jeez, Sanders, I was kidding."

"No…Mr. Peebles was my favorite stuffed animal as a kid." Blissfully high, Greg recalled the memory. "He was a donkey. Had the cutest little eyes and this soft…"

"Hold up!" Nick raised his hand in disbelief. "Your childhood comfort item was **an ass**?"

"He was really sweet and cute!" Greg protested. "My dad gave him to me when I was three."

"Are ya sure he wasn't **a horse** and you mistook him for a donkey?" Nick cringed. "Because why would a father give his son **an ass **as a gift?"

"My dad was at the National Democratic Convention and brought him home for me."

"Ahhh…" A grin stretched across Nick's face. "That explains why my Right-Wing daddy never happened upon one, and if my mom ever brought one home from one of her Liberal rallies, most likely he snatched it for target practice with my brother before I ever saw it. But now that you've explained it, I believe your woobie was indeed a donkey."

Greg assured his concerned friend, "Yes, indeed, Mr. Peebles was a cuddly little ass and I snuggled the stuffing out of him by the time I was eight. My mom has him preserved in a plexiglass box on a shelf at home, so I still get to visit him."

On his way to the bedroom Nick cracked, "So much for the tough guy image of you I started developing today."

To keep her man content, Tawny hurried over with his shake. "Suck this down while I unpack everything else and warm it up a little. It got cold when we were waiting for your prescriptions."

"First a kiss." Holding the shake in one hand, he slipped the other around her neck and pulled her close.

"Are you sure you're up to it, Chuckles?" Tawny gladly obliged.

Only seconds into the smooch Greg yanked her on top of him and in his euphoria got a little carried away.

"Hey now…the doctor told him to take it easy," Nick joked. "And you don't want to shock Gris and Sara with any complicated Kama Sutra sexual positions. I've seen it all in my day so I'm not flustered, but I doubt the Grissoms have been exposed to as much as I have."

Knowing the truth, Tawny returned to the kitchen laughing.

With his mouth free to blab, Greg quietly informed his pal, "Get this…according to the chick chat transcript, Gris and Sara already have twenty-seven positions down! Can you believe that! 27!"

"Are you sure you read that right?" Nick guffawed, "Are you sure it wasn't **two **POINT **seven **with Gris having a misfire like you?"

"No, I'm positive it was twenty seven!" Greg explained, "Because Sara was giving Carrie advice… she told her to go for The Mandarin Ducks and The Goat and the Tree." Laughing at himself he confessed, "I didn't know what they were but I Googled them…looks fun to me…but I have so few limitations in bed. I can't imagine Gris doing it with Sara though. Then again, I try never to imagine that because, Dude, let's face it…it's squicky. I'm still purging the images I used to have of me and Sara getting it on now that she's like my sister. The last thing I need in my head is my sister-figure and my father-figure turning up the kink." Since Nick was still speechless Greg continued, "Oh you'll like this…Tawny told Carrie to ask you to _Drive the Peg Home, _citing that she heard you had done it, and done it well, at plenty of parties. She even translated it into your language as 'Up Against the Wall, Baby!' so when Carrie came asking you'd know just what to do."

"Just when I thought the humiliation couldn't get worse." He covered Greg's face with the pillows and yelled toward the kitchen, "Hey Tawny!" When she looked up Nick asked in mortification, "From that online chat, Sara knows all this embarrassing stuff about me too?"

"Hey, it wasn't all embarrassing." Sensing he needed it, Tawny pumped his ego. "Carrie told us you can run ten miles without stopping and bench press twice your body weight." She winked. "We both knew what she was trying to tell us with that tidbit of information, Stud. Why do you think I recommended the peg? It takes a man with a certain combination of attributes. And Carrie also said you were really good at…" She stopped talking to answer the knock on the door. "Coming!"

"Help me, Bro," Greg whined from the couch. "I'm trying to get my socks off and it hurts too much to bend."

Nick grabbed Greg's left calf and lifted it to yank off his blue sock. "And you say my feet reek? Good thing I don't have a weak stomach." He attempted to grab the sock by the toes.

Greg recoiled laughing. "Sorry…I'm really ticklish. Tawny knows and loves to torture me."

"Carrie is too." His eyes lit up just thinking about her giggling uncontrollably in his arms. "I love making her beg for mercy." He grabbed Greg's leg again and this time tugged the sock off from the cuff.

Standing in the living room, Sara, Tawny and Gil took one look at Nick holding Greg's naked foot up towards his mouth and gasped in unison. Then Sara yelled in squicky horror, "My eyes!" The joyous look on Nick's face made it easy for her to envision the toe sucking nightmare Tawny had jokingly described the day before.

"What!" Nick shouted when he saw the threesome gaping. "He wanted his socks off and he can't bend. Can you smell his feet from over there? Is that why you look like you're gonna be sick?"

Then, the three who were in on the twisted fantasy joke burst into outrageous laughter until Tawny quipped, "Thankfully it's summer so Nick's not wearing a flannel shirt." They laughed harder.

As he released Greg's foot Nick snapped, "Is this another Chick Chat inside joke? Unbelievable." He stuffed his hands on his hips. "Did Gris read it too? That's it…I demand a copy. Roxie's gonna get some crap about this."

Puzzled by Nick's statement Grissom curiously inquired, "What's a Chick Chat?"

**Jim Brass's Office  
****8:05 p.m. **

Sitting at his desk drowning in paperwork and tension, Jim picked up the phone for a few minutes of diversion.

_Thank you for calling, but unfortunately I'm too busy dominating those around me to take your call. Leave a message and I'll call you back…unless you've been naughty…then I'll pay you a visit. _

Smiling at her latest personal voicemail message Jim waited for the beep. "I was a real wise-ass to with the Sheriff so I suppose that makes me a naughty boy. I don't think a phone call will cut it." He glanced at his watch. "It's just past eight and I'll be here until ten at the latest. See you later?" He asked in a questioning tone. "Oh and thanks for your message earlier…I need that. Bye, Sweetheart."

After hanging up he picked up his pen and signed off on Sofia's two incident interview reports and then reached for a Personal Leave form for Nick and a Medical Leave form for Greg.

**Greg's Apartment  
****8:10 p.m. **

Tawny walked Nick outside leaving Greg in the living room shoveling in his fast food and shooting the breeze with Gil and Sara. "Thanks for all your help today, Nick."

"It was the least I could do."

Seeing his tension re-emerge Tawny asked, "Do you really think Sofia's report is going to make Jim force you out on leave?"

"Definitely." He reached into his pocket to retrieve his keys. "But don't worry…I'm not leaving town so if you need anything I…"

"We'll be fine." She smiled warmly. "You could use a vacation…well, that's not me talking. I'm basing it on what Greg said yesterday. He was worried about you. And considering the way Carrie flew out of the gym I'd say she's worried about you too. Hey, maybe you can convince her to take some time off and go someplace fun."

"Fat chance of that," He sighed as he rocked on his heels. "It's too short notice and she has too much going on at work. But maybe I will sneak off for a day or two and do some camping and hiking…something to clear my head. I don't know." Appreciating her concern he smiled. "I'll see if I can try and remember what I used to do for fun…besides partying."

"I don't know about you, but I'm enjoying retirement from the party circuit," She giggled. "Go have some good clean fun. I have your cell programmed in mine if something comes up with Greg." Tossing her arms around his neck she whispered, "Thanks for not just being a great boss to Greg but a great friend. He didn't always have them. I'm glad he does now."

Releasing from the hug, Nick assured her, "Don't you worry, we've got Greggo flanked. Good night, Tawny."

"Night." When she stepped back into the living room, Tawny saw Sara standing next to the couch twisting a balloon poodle. "Where'd you learn to do that, Sara?"

"Social Services used to put on events for foster kids…you know…picnics and stuff. Their intentions were good, but I hated them." Sadly she shrugged. "To me they just accented the fact that I didn't have a family."

From the coffee table where he was sitting, Gil listened intently to this new story about his wife.

"So I was at this one event…they reserved a local zoo for all of us kids and brought in clowns and magicians…carnival games, all that stuff." She finished making the poodle's head. "This one clown saw me reading alone under a tree and she took me by the hand. Her name was Binny. Anyway…she felt sorry for me and took me to her booth and made me her assistant while she made balloon animals for kids. By the end of the day I knew how to make everything."

"No shock there," Gil remarked as he stared lovingly at his wife. "What don't you learn quickly?"

Greg answered after yawning, "She went almost five years waiting for you to give her the time of day…I'd say she was a little slow on the uptake there."

Sara held up her open palm. "High-five for that one, Bro."

"Now on the flip side." He yawned again.

"Looks like the hero is **finally **getting sleepy." Tawny checked her watch. "And you need another 800mg of Motrin before you pass out. Gil…maybe you can move him into the bedroom before you go because I won't be able to." She patted her tummy. "No heavy lifting."

Reminded of her pregnancy, Sara smiled. "I'll take his left arm, you take his right, Gil."

"I really wanted to take a shower first," Greg commented through a yawn. "But I'm too weak to go it alone."

"Sorry…but I'm not showering with you unless it's mandated by Hazmat," Sara laughed.

"I had that dream once," Greg confessed as he was brought to standing. "Sorry, Gris."

"Hey…why would I care about fantasies?" He grinned, "I get to shower with Sara for real all the time."

"Overshare!" Greg clung to them as he crossed the room. "Thanks a lot for coming to see me."

Grissom shook his head. "You need anything while you're home recovering you call me."

"We'll need help moving to the townhouse," Greg answered in a free-association.

Sara glanced over at her husband. "We can come back tomorrow and help them pack up. I don't have plans for us until six."

"Which are?" Gil prodded.

"Dinner with your dad and Lina…who I'm dying to meet."

"She's really cool," Greg enthused. "And Gris's dad is totally hot for her. It's obvious. But Ron doesn't know what to do about it."

Sara choked on her laughter thinking of how similar father and son were in that regard. "I've heard about that."

When they reached the bed Grissom took over. "Easy it does it…" He accidentally flopped Greg onto his back.

"Yeah…there's a reason Nick is called Slick." Greg adjusted his position. "His technique is much smoother."

"Some girls appreciate a little roughness around the edges." Sara winked at her husband. "I'm going to see if Tawny needs anything before we go. I'll see you tomorrow, Tough Guy."

"Night, Sara." When she left the room Greg noticed Grissom was staring at him. "I'm fine…really. I don't even remember much."

"Not now because you're half-baked and still in shock." He took a seat on the edge of the bed. "But you will. And when you do you may regret having been so nice to me tonight."

"Not a chance." He settled in under the covers. "I'm not going to let one bad call overshadow all the great stuff you've taught me or done for me over the years. I know what it's like to make a bad decision and live to regret it. The best thing to do is to learn from it and move right along." Breaking the tension he smiled, "But if it will make you feel better you can tack a few more rent-free months on the townhouse."

"Let's make it an even year." Grissom smiled as he held out his hand.

"Deal." Returning the handshake Greg noted the emotion in Grissom's eyes. "Let it go or I'll ask for two rent-free years. I'm a spoiled country club kid so I'm more than capable of outrageous mooching without guilt."

"Okay." Grissom released Greg's hand. "I'll stop. But I predict a very nice wedding gift in your future."

"The very **near** future if all goes according to plan."

"I'm glad there's still going to be a wedding, Greg, I…"

"What's this about a wedding?" Tawny teased as she breezed in the room. "So busted. Rumor has it there's even a ring purchase in the works."

"How did you find out about that!" He shrieked.

"I didn't." She winked. "I was bluffing." Elbowing Grissom she remarked, "I learned from the Master." Glancing up she asked in a voice steeped in sincerity, "If I happen to find myself in a wedding dress in the near future, would you mind walking me down the aisle in place of my dad?" When she heard the words out loud she flashed to tears.

"You really want me to after what…"

In the doorway, Sara watched her husband's reaction and her eyes welled.

"Are you kidding…" Tawny squeaked. "I can't think of anyone else who's played a bigger role in helping Greg and me get together."

From the bed, Greg watched with a smile plastered on his face. "If you say yes to her then it takes the pressure off me having to choose between Nick and you for best man. You were both down there in the basement with me today and I really didn't want to choose."

"I'd be honored, Tawny," Gil choked out. "Thrilled."

"Great!" She threw her arms around him. "So if I find myself planning a wedding in the near future I have one thing done already."

"Two." Sara reminded her. "You picked out your dress earlier, remember?"

"Tawny's hands rushed to her mouth. "I forgot about that! Yes! I have the best dress." She pointed to Greg. "But you're not seeing it, because the last thing we need is bad luck!"

Before he could reply Greg was interrupted by the phone. Since it was next to him on the nightstand he reached for it. When he checked the display he announced, "Speaking of having bad luck…it's my mom. Who wants to break this to her?"

Grissom held out his hand. "She can't kill me over the phone, right?"

"I guess we'll find out." Greg pressed the talk button. "Mom?"

"Hi, Sweetie."

"Hey, just to let you know I'm **absolutely** fine, so is Tawny, and the babies. There is someone here who wants to talk to you and tell you something though." He slapped the phone in Grissom's hand. "Good luck."

"Hello, Bev…" He nervously greeted. "Um…"

"Who is this?"

"It's Gil Grissom. We um…we had an incident on the job today."

"Did Catherine blow up the lab again!"

"No…" Grissom cleared his throat and asked himself…how would my father approach this? Then it came to him and his tone warmed. "Bev…did Greg mention I'm letting him have my townhome rent free for a year?"

* * *

Next: Chapter 89 - Bring on the Night (epilogue to Losing It series) 

Posting: Late Monday **NOTE: Since the changes to this website I haven't been able to get the document upload feature to work. SORRY! Chapter 89 is available on my website by clicking my homepage link. **

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Have a great weekend!

Maggs


	18. Bring on the Night

**Feasibility Study **

**Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT **

**Chapter 89: Bring on the Night  
****The Epilogue to the Losing It Series **

**August 23, 2005 (Day 123)  
****Greg's Apartment  
****8:26 p.m. **

While Grissom continued to be grilled by Mrs. Sanders, and Tawny was in the living room talking secretively on her cellphone, Sara and Greg were wrapped up in a game of Boggle…which was boggling Greg's overmedicated and overtaxed mind.

Adding up his score for him Sara laughed, "I gave you a two and a half minute lead on the three minute total game time and I still kicked your butt, Bro. You even missed CAT."

"Speaking of outrageous butt kicking…" He pointed to Grissom sitting on the bedroom floor up against the wall looking pale. "I think he's sore enough." Yelling over, Greg said, "Hey, Gris, tell my mommy that I need to talk to her about **a future wedding**."

It worked like a charm and ten seconds later the phone was in Greg's hand. "Hi, Mom. See…I told you I was fine." He waved to Gil and Sara, shooing them home. "I hope you weren't too ugly to Gris."

"I was ugly enough and I only went easy on him because you're safe…and because he introduced you to Tawny…and because he's been very generous to you. Frankly I still want to strangle him." Sighing heavy from anxiety she chided, "I want you to promise to follow the rules from here on out. The reason I like you working for Nick Stokes is that he's a safety guy. He said that when I was out there visiting, remember? He made you and Sara wear bullet proof vests when…"

"I promise to listen to Nick and I promise to follow the rules."

"I can fly out first thing in the morning if you need me to take care of you, Honey."

"Mom, you don't have to do that anymore, remember?" Snuggling under the covers he delicately reminded her, "I have someone living with me now and she's doing a great job. I took care of her last night after the baby crisis, and she's taking care of me tonight. I think I'll ask her to marry me," He joked.

"I bought the ring today."

"I just mailed the check this morning."

"I was too excited to wait," She laughed sweetly until her emotions caught up with her. "Imagine if I had it and you were killed. What would I have done? Would you have wanted me to give it to her from you posthumously…I can't even bring myself to…"

"Mom…mom….please don't go there." He closed his eyes. "Let's….hey, tell me about the ring. Is it as beautiful as it looked on the computer? Will she love it?"

"The picture doesn't do it justice," She sniffled. "She'll be thrilled, Sweetheart. I can't wait to see it on her finger."

"That makes two of us," He whispered as he began to drift.

As they walked through the parking lot of the apartment complex, Sara glanced at her husband's ass. "Does it hurt much from Bev kicking it? Maybe we should have borrowed a pillow for you to sit on for the drive home?"

Exhaling pent up tension Gil admitted, "That was rough. I don't want to imagine what that conversation would have been like if the outcome had been different."

Feeling his pain Sara stopped joking around. "We don't have to imagine it because it didn't happen, it's behind us and we're all moving forward." When she reached her car she said, "On the drive home I want you to think about how you'd like to spend the next five days. I'm up for anything."

"Anything?"

"Even bugs," She assured him as he held open her car door.

"How's your car running by the way?" He hadn't asked her since the night he had it towed from the gym and repaired.

"Hey, thanks for handling that for me while I was busy being pissed off at you. I'm happy to report that the car, like our marriage, is running smoothly again." She took a seat behind the wheel. "I'm going to stop for a few things on the way home." Sara winked. "I'll meet you there. Oh and don't eat, I'll get some take out."

"Now I'm curious."

"Good."

**Crime Lab  
****9:01 p.m. **

Ready to face the music, Nick rapped on the open door and stepped into his boss's office feigning a military tone. "Stokes reporting as requested, Sir."

"Very submissive. Since I'm dating a lady in the biz I know it when I hear it. Did Carrie teach you that?" He teased as he pointed to a guest chair. "At ease soldier."

"Thanks, Jim." Trying to relax, he took a seat. "So…"

"So…" Jim eased back in his chair. "Sanders' inquiry statements were a bit wacky."

"After smoking a joint and following it up with 10mgs of Percocet, Cheetos and a Coke, Greggo was in a **very** psychedelic mood." Sitting back he sighed, "Considering the other places he could have been tonight, like Doc's autopsy table, I was thrilled to see him on cloud nine. I didn't even mind listening to him sing tonight."

"Now that says a lot." Brass held up Sofia's report. "Good news for Greg…the only thing he did incorrectly in this mess was not executing a kill shot when he faced down Tucker."

"He chose to incapacitate instead."

"He chose wrong and it could have cost him his life." Brass set down the report. "He empathized."

"How could he not? You heard what he said about getting beaten…tortured, is more accurate." Nick tensed as he recalled it. "We're not allowed to treat hardened criminals that way, but at thirteen, Greg gets duct taped and has the shit kicked out of him for looking at some guy. What the hell is wrong with people that they think they can swoop in and mess up a kid's life because it makes them feel good? Freakin' sociopathic bastards. If I were in his shoes I wouldn't have executed a kill shot either and think about that, Jim…that bastard Mifflin had McKenna in his sights. Which really makes me wonder how the hell I can say what I just said and…"

"Halt!" Jim leaned forward. "Perhaps this would be a good time to discuss **you**."

Breathing deep Nick turned his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head.

"It's just a phase, Nick." Brass changed to a fatherly tone. "Happens to the best of us…even me and let's face it, I'm as close to perfection as people get. You just need a little time to regroup and pull yourself together."

"What did Sofia write in there?" He groaned. "How bad is it?"

"Frankly…I was surprised she was so generous." Brass handed over the file. "Considering you're like oil and water."

"Well…I um…apologized for something before she wrote up the report." Shifting in his seat he added, "Not work related."

"Ah…smart move." Brass returned to lounging in his chair. "I wondered if the two of you had…" Smugly he laughed, "Come on, Nicky…you know better than to shit where you eat. That's politics 101."

As he opened the file he laughed. "Sorry…but with all due respect, Jim…should you really be talking about good places to hang your hat?"

"Touché!"

Nick scanned the summary page. "So she's basically sayin' I'm one straw from a nervous breakdown."

"You could go for a Psych Eval if you want to dispute her recommendation for mandated personal leave." He smirked. "You know…in case you think she's pissed at you for hanging your hat elsewhere and is falsifying her findings."

"It wasn't that type of relationship," He winked. "It was an arrangement. And thanks for the generous offer about getting my head examined for free by the County but…." Nick tossed the file on Jim's desk. "…I'll just take the **two **weeks of vacation and call it a day."

"I'm required to tell you that counselors are at your disposal."

"There's only one person who can help me out of this and she's promised to be at my disposal for the rest of her life." Nick stared at the concerned man sitting across from him.

"So everything's okay at home…with Carrie?" Jim asked in a troubled tone. "I'm off the record here."

Swallowing hard he confessed, "Hell…she's the only thing making perfect sense."

"Glad to hear it." He struggled for the right words. "You know I've never been much of a father. Ellie's out in California doin'…who the hell knows what she's doing. I try not to think about it." Placing his hand on his chest he humbled himself. "I've always been ineffective...no matter how hard I try. For years I was an absentee father…I was lax. At one point I tried to make up for it, but found out I was too late. Now, even though I know I should…I'm too afraid to push things with her." Catching Nick's eye he stated, "Certainly a lot different than how your father parented, huh?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Pushing was the norm. Push past it…push through it…push it down inside ya…push forward. "

"You can't push yourself out of this thing you're going through, Nick." Jim leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Pushing is exactly what's making it worse." He caught his gaze and held it. "Do you understand what I'm saying…this isn't football. You can't push past the pain and get through the game, because this doesn't end. There's no season for this like football. You don't have five months to burn yourself out and seven months off to recover. The season is continuous now…career, marriage, family…there is no off-season. You've never had to balance all this before and I think you're struggling. Am I close to the mark here?"

"Somewhat," He replied before clamming up.

"You need to learn to relax **during **the season. You need to find some balance." Jim admitted, "Just don't ask me how because I sucked at it. I was a workaholic who cheated on his wife, ignored his daughter, got divorced and left Jersey downing a bottle of whisky a day. But you're not me and I know you can pull it off."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but could you tell me exactly what you're basing it on?" He hoped to hear something persuasive. "Cause I'm not convinced I can."

"That's huge right there."

"What?" His brows knitted as he waited for the answer.

"You admitting you're not sure you've got the right stuff."

"What's that phrase?" An anxious smile found his lips. "Admitting you have a problem is the first step toward recovery? My name is Nick Stokes and I don't have my shit together. I'm hanging on by a thread and it's fraying by the hour. Yeah, I feel better…not. How can I feel good? I'm failing all over the place. I'm failing my team…you…Carrie…myself." He huffed a self-loathing laugh. "Hell, I'm looking so pathetic even an ex-screw buddy I treated like crap one night feels sorry for me. What does that tell you, huh? You think I don't know how pathetic I look? Hell…the crunch of the egg shells people are walking on around me is deafening."

"Failing tweaks you hard," Jim announced without emotion. "You ever get a B in school?"

"No, but I got a D once." Without hesitation he shared the blunder. "Final grading period of 9th grade…Colonial American History. I decided to tool around and not pay attention the last part of the year. I was awesome at cramming. I knew I could pull out a B, but I blew it. I got this wicked stomach flu right before the final and didn't get to cram."

"Wow, a D! What did your dad say when you brought home that nightmare?" Brass listened intently, relishing the insight into Nick's psyche and the glimpse at how another, no doubt more skilled father, parented.

"What did he **say**?" Nick thought back and laughed. "You have to understand…my father values economy when it comes to words. He glanced up from my report card and very calmly remarked…" Nick mimicked his father's voice, "Son, it looks like we just discovered how you'll be spending your summer vacation. You'll be studying the history of the United States, a country you obviously take for granted."

"And then did he whoop your ass?"

"No." Nick tossed his hands in the air. "That was it. He didn't lose his temper or touch me…never did. Sometimes I think that would have been a lot easier to handle than dealing with that tone of his…the way he could make you feel with just a few carefully chosen words and that tone of disapproval." Staring blankly at Jim's pen holder, Nick explained, "You knew you blew it big when you heard it. I hated that feeling. Made me walk around with my stomach in a knot, and every time I saw him in the days following, the knot would tighten a bit more." He shrugged. "My brother was the only one immune to it. While my sisters and I couldn't stomach that feeling, Andy thrived on it. Probably explains why he's off making big bucks in Chicago selling his soul and clawing his way to the top in the business world, while the rest of us kids have service careers."

"I'd say there's correlation." Still curious, Brass probed, "So what did you do about Colonial American History? Did you go to the library and study up? Write an essay? What?"

"Nah…that's not how it worked." A nostalgic smile appeared on his face. "The next morning when I came down for breakfast, there was a stack of history books on the kitchen table with a note addressed to me. It was titled…your summer vacation. It said…read and comprehend these books cover to cover. On Labor Day we'll go sailing, just you and me. I expect to accomplish two things during our time together. I expect to catch some fish and I expect to be expertly educated on Colonial America."

Smiling, Jim quizzed, "What was the first colony?"

"Jamestown." He felt compelled to embellish the answer. "On May 14th 1607, over one hundred men and boys arrived courtesy of The Virginia Company on the Susan Constant, the Godspeed, and the Discovery. They anchored on the banks of James River. That's just the beginning…if you have another three hours I can finish Jamestown and move on to the mid 1600's." Shaking his head he sighed, "Trust me, if there was ever a Colonial America quiz show on TV, I'd kick ass and remain undefeated unless Captain John Smith rose from the grave to challenge me."

"I'll Google all that stuff later to make sure you're correct," Jim joked. "For now I'll take your word for it."

"Take this my word on this too, Jim." Nick sat forward and nodded. "When I come back I'll have it together."

"Okay…but, Nick…if you come back and you don't have it together, I want you to promise you'll tell me. You know what I'll promise right now…no matter what you come back and tell me, you won't get the tone of disapproval." He soothed, "We'll work together and figure something out. There are always options. Fair enough?"

"More than fair." He stood and extended his hand. "Thanks, Jim. I appreciate it."

Standing and returning the handshake Jim teased, "Here…I want to give you fifty bucks." Once his hand was free he reached into his pocket.

"What? Why?" Nick stared at his boss retrieving his money clip.

"Boss's orders and I will give you **the tone** if you let me down here." He forked over the fifty. "On the way home I want you to pick up a nice bottle of wine to share with your fiancée, because I've never seen you more relaxed than the night the future Mrs. Nick Stokes was plowed."

"Ahh." Laughing, he tucked the fifty in his pocket. "I promise to follow orders, but I can't force Carrie to comply. She only had a couple of hours sleep last night and unlike me, has to work tomorrow."

"You want a quick lesson on domination?" Jim watched Nick's smile spread. "Okay, get the hell out of here before I feel compelled to hug you or something crazy like that. There's been enough scandal for one day and no one is supposed to know I'm a teddy bear disguised as a sarcastic old fart."

"I'll see you in two weeks, Jim." Grinning, Nick hustled toward the door. "I'm gonna gather my things, take off, buy some wine, and hopefully inebriate my fiancée. Maybe if I get her tipsy I can get her to commit to taking a day off at some point during these two weeks."

Once Nick was gone, Jim sat on the edge of his desk and pulled out his cellphone. "What the hell." He punched in Ellie's number.

As usual after three rings her voice message echoed, _you know what to do._

And he spoke the customary words. "Hey, Ellie…it's your dad checking in. I didn't hear back from last week…didn't expect to though and that's…" Suddenly he had a change of heart. "You know what…I do expect you to call me back this time. Yeah. Call me back this time or I'm hiring someone out there to track you down and keep tabs on you for me. You have forty-eight hours."

When he hung up the phone he dropped into his chair clutching his head and wondering…should I have given seventy-two or maybe only twenty-four?

**Crime Lab Parking Lot **

**9:31 p.m. **

With his black messenger bag over his shoulder, his kit in one hand and his keys in the other, Nick crossed the asphalt to get to his Xterra in the far end of the lot.

After stowing his things in the back, he opened the driver's side door and immediately noticed the large brown envelope on the passenger seat with the words, OPEN ME penned across it in black marker.

Intrigued, he climbed inside, took a seat and grabbed the mysterious envelope. As soon as he spilled its contents a smile burst on his face…it was a CD of Alan Jackson's Drive, and a note from Carrie.

_Hey Tex,_

_A little birdie (well, an ex-tweeter actually) called to tell me you were feeling blue. She also told me that you were heading back to the lab to receive an unexpected vacation. I was a little surprised that my fiancé had tweeted first about this with her and not me, but then I realized you didn't want to burden me because I'm too busy working. Well guess what, Honey? I don't have to be back at work until Monday! Time off for good behavior (specifically for helping Clive with his case and not killing him in the process). So whatever it is you were planning on doing, you need to count me in…even if it's ((trembling)) camping._

_To help get you in the right mood for your homecoming tonight, I've included a little musical inspiration. A song to warm an aching cowboy's heart as he drives home to the woman who's waiting to hold him and make sure he knows everything is going to be alright._

_It's song number three. Don't call me. Just listen and drive…_

_Love,_

_Carrie_

_P.S. I have dinner waiting, but don't panic…I didn't cook it._

While popping the CD into his car stereo Nick declared, "What I did to deserve you I'll never know."

His sister Barbara had given him the CD for Christmas a few years back but he hadn't listened to it in a while because of his change in music taste…or as Greg would say…lack of music taste. But as soon as the first chords filled his car, Nick recalled the song, smiled a little brighter and switched on the ignition. It was about a tired man driving home to the one he loves and when he gets there, locking the door and losing himself in the arms of his woman.

**Greg's Apartment **

**9:52 p.m. **

After prying the phone out of Greg's hand while he slept, Tawny spoke to Mrs. Sanders for twenty minutes, reassuring her that her son was going to be just fine and then moving on to happier subjects like wedding planning and babies.

When she was done chatting, Tawny decided, because Greg was low on clean underwear, to toss in a load of laundry before joining him in bed for a much needed good night's sleep.

As the washing machine loudly filled with water Tawny couldn't hear the sounds coming from the bedroom, but when she closed the lid on the washer Greg's piercing scream penetrated her ears and she took off running. "Greg!"

By the time she reached the bedroom, he had kicked off the covers and was sitting up in bed holding his head and yelling, "No…don't…don't…NO!"

"Greg!" Jumping on the bed Tawny frantically shook him. "I'm here, it's okay."

His words were accented with screams. "Don't! Put the gun down. Put it down!" Clutching his head he shrieked, "NO!"

"Greg!" As she tried to hold him he fought to get away and slipped out of bed. That's when she realized he was still sleeping. Recalling what she read in the pamphlet on sleep trouble after trauma, she recognized he was having a night terror. "Greg…" She called while sliding off the bed to join him on the floor, and remembering the booklet said it was often difficult to wake the person and often made matters worse, she left him alone to slowly rouse.

In a daze he pushed himself up to sitting. "Wh…"

"You're okay," She soothed while placing her hands on his sweaty face. "You're home…you're safe."

"What happened?" He groggily asked while wondering why he was on the floor and his back throbbing. "Why…it hurts." Greg's hand reached around instinctively to hold his back.

As the pamphlet had instructed, she filled in the blanks to alleviate his confusion. "You hurt your back today, remember? While working the case you were held hostage in that basement." His whole body was shaking and she moved her hands to his shoulders to pull him close. "The Percocet is wearing off, that's why it's hurting more."

"Hostage…" Greg remarked in a distant voice. Then his panic reignited. "The gun…the gun!" He startled and his eyes darted around the room.

"There's no gun and no bad guy. It's over," She assured him in a firm voice while he panted in her arms. "You were sleeping and had a night terror. You're in your bedroom with me and you're safe."

"Why…" Panting, he struggled to make sense of the jumble of information in his head. "Okay…I remember."

Now that he wasn't fighting it, Tawny leaned against the bed and pulled him to her body. "Try to relax."

He gulped for air. "Don't let go."

"I won't."

Closing his eyes he whispered, "I see it all now."

"Try not to." She held him tighter.

"It's coming for me," He said in a gasp.

"What's coming for you, Honey?" She gently stroked his back while waiting for a full answer.

"Death…" He confessed while clinging to her. "I didn't want to live, but I did. I cheated death and now it's coming for me…the lab explosion was just the first of many close calls. It keeps happening. It keeps happening, Tawny…this is like the fourth time it's happened. I get so close to death and then I make it. How many do I get? Is it like the cat thing…do I get nine?"

"Shhh…you need to stop worrying."

"It's coming for me." He swallowed hard. "And one of these days it's going to find me. I'm scared." Trembling, he snuggled closer. "It's coming…I can feel it."

"That's the stress and the medication talking."

"Do you really think so?" He asked, hoping she'd make him believe it.

"Absolutely." Tenderly, she kissed his forehead. "Now let's get back in bed and try to get some sleep."

"Promise you'll stay with me."

"Of course." Her smiled brightened the room. "So much and forever, remember?"

With her help, he grabbed the edge of the mattress and pulled himself to his feet. "I think I'll feel better if I can clean up."

"I'll draw you a bath so you don't have to worry about standing in the shower." Slipping her hand around his waist she walked him out of the room. "You want some bubbles, Chuckles?" She asked trying to lighten the mood. "They'll make you smell better. And while you're in there, I'll change the sheets…because we know how important fresh sheets are, right?" Finally she saw a smile and it warmed her heart. "Greg was going to be okay."

**San Marino, California **

**The Sanders Home **

**9:55 p.m. **

Was Greg really okay, Bev Sanders wondered while shedding silent tears in the family room of her home? The emotion was brought on by the shocking news of the day and her staring at Greg's favorite childhood snuggly, Mr. Peebles, who now sat on a shelf encased in plexiglass.

"Oh, Sweetheart…" Scott remarked as soon as he entered the room and saw her. "Greg's fine." Upon reaching her, he slipped his arms around her waist from behind. "He sounded great when you let me talk to him…for thirty seconds." She practically wrestled the phone away from him.

"I know," She sniffled trying to compose herself. "I hate that job. I wish he'd quit. He could work in any lab in the country and…"

"He loves the job," Scott gently reminded her.

"Why?"

Lightly laughing Scott answered, "Honey…I've never been one to understand my son's motivations. I don't know why he loves some of music he listens to, or the clothes he wears…or that hair. All I know is when I was out there listening to him talk about the job he was animated and proud of what he was doing. I've waited a long time to see him like that."

"I'd feel better if I could see him."

"He'll be here next Thursday…with Tawny." Scott chuckled. "I don't have a problem understanding why he loves her."

Finally Bev laughed. "Outwardly what's not to appreciate, but it's what's inside her that makes her lovable. Tawny loves him so much." Her tears returned. "I'm so happy he finally has someone special."

"Like I do." After kissing his wife's cheek, Scott took her by the hand. "Come on…let's open a bottle of wine and try to relax. Later, I'll draw you a nice soothing bubble bath."

"Okay." Bev trailed behind him. "There's already a bottle open in…"

"Nope…we're breaking open the good stuff. I have a special bottle of Cabernet in mind."

**Carrie and Nick's Apartment **

**9:59 p.m. **

Holding a bottle of fifty dollar wine in a brown paper bag, Nick opened the door to the apartment and was glad to do as the song suggested…lock the world outside and throw the key away.

The sound of Nick's keys dropping on the entry table sent Carrie rushing from the kitchen into the living room sporting one of Nick's white t-shirts and a pair of powder blue boy shorts. "You're home." Her arms were around his neck before he could reply.

"I'm home." Closing his eyes he savored everything…the smell of _Acqua di Gio_ perfume, the warmth of her body and the comfort of her loving embrace. "To call it a day, just like the song says. Thank you for that surprise."

"The shades are pulled," She whispered while gazing into his weary eyes.

"And seriously, the only thing that kept me sane today was knowing at some point I'd be in your arms." He felt himself slipping.

Not wanting things to get overly emotional after a day full of drama, Carrie joked, "Why? Was it a tough day at the office? Or do you have something personal going on?"

"Yeah…" Nick released his emotions in a laugh, grateful to be snapped out of heaviness. "I guess you could say there were a few tense moments sprinkled throughout my day."

"Is that why you have booze in a bag?" She stepped back and took it.

"Boss' orders," He explained through a laugh. "Jim said he'd never seen me more relaxed than when you were plowed. So he gave me fifty bucks and told me to bring home a bottle for you."

"Ha!" She yanked the bottle of red wine from its sack. "Well…I think your mood that night had more to do with romping in the pool house and tequila, than my wine buzz." She studied the bottle as she headed for the kitchen for glasses. "Why did you select this one? Agraria Big Barn Red?"

After taking off his shoes by the door Nick followed. "The description said it was complex and intense because of its layers…I thought it fit my mood of late." He laughed, "Plus it had the word **barn** in it and I had been listening to country music."

In the kitchen he took a seat at the counter. "Bartender…I'd love a glass of your finest wine. And I don't have time to wait for it to breathe."

"Coming right up." She winked as she grabbed the corkscrew from a drawer. "So…what do you want to do for our glorious five days together?"

"Not camping, Darlin'." He rolled his eyes. "Because I doubt camping with you would be relaxing for me."

She popped the cork and silently rejoiced. "I wouldn't mind spending** one** night under the stars with you…as long as there is a clean restroom nearby…and no bugs." Carrie poured a sample into Nick's glass and slid it forward. "I'll leave the bug romance to Sara and Gil."

Foregoing all wine tasting etiquette, he gulped it down. "Thanks for the shot. I'd love another."

Shaking her head she filled his glass. "Well, I know where else we're not going…Wine Country. You'd have us run out of town."

"Hey…we weren't all raised in Sonoma County, California, Sweetheart." Swirling his glass he faked his best wine snob. "Robust yet smooth, with just the right hint of cedar." When he saw Carrie gaping he laughed. "I read that on the card at the store too."

"You had me going." She raised her glass and did a proper analysis.

"Good to know that even when I'm a nutcase I'm still capable of being smoooooooth." He took a hearty swing and smacked his lips. "Those are some first-rate grapes, Baby. Hey…do you think Keanu stomped them before he took that walk in the clouds?"

She choked on her sip. "For a guy on the edge you're pretty funny."

"I have an idea…" His eyes glimmered as he readied to spring it. "How about we don't plan a trip…we just take one…a road trip? With no destination, no reservations and…you may want to brace yourself here…no organization."

"Oh!" She clutched her chest. "No way."

"Oh yeah." He raised his glass. "You can do it." The look of sheer terror on her face as he drank thrilled him. "Just you and me and the open road."

"Did you do this kind of thing before I met you?" She inquired in an anxious voice.

"Yeah, when I needed to get away I just tossed a bag and some outdoor gear in my trunk and took off…destination unknown. I'd camp, hike, fish, have a few beers in a local bar, do whatever. Come back to town a new man."

Her lips curved into a grin. "**Whatever**? I have an inkling about that vague activity. Don't you mean do **whom**ever?"

"It's okay if you're not up for the challenge." He smiled behind his soon to be empty glass. "I know you have limitations."

Sticking her index finger in her mouth, Carrie tugged on her cheek, pretending to be a hooked trout.

"Tell you what…Miss Most Likely to Organize the World." Smiling, he grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. "You can plan five things you want to do on this trip."

She lowered her glass. "Five things?"

"You get five and I get five." He clinked his glass to hers. "But you get no time to think about it." Lunging across the counter he grabbed one of her legal pads and a pen. "I'll say one thing and then you say one thing until we have ten things to accomplish on our road trip. Is that enough structure for ya?"

Grabbing the bottle of wine she excitedly said, "Let's do this in the living room."

"I figured you'd get into it once there was a list involved." Taking his glass, pad and pen he followed her to the couch.

"You first," She announced in a giddy tone as she tossed her feet with their perfectly French polished toes onto the coffee table.

He seized the opportunity by looking her straight in the eyes and saying, "I'd love to do some Side-by-Side Clasping followed by a turn on Kama's Wheel and end up Driving the Peg Home to give you that naughty girl pool house vibe you love now. That is if you think I have the strength and stamina to pull it off…which you should think since you know I can run ten miles without stopping and bench press twice my body weight. I mean…I may not be a knowledgeable Biologist or a reactive Chemist but I'm a multi-talented scientist and jock, so you should still have some fun even though we're **law plus law enforcement** and usually do things by the book. Speaking of books, has your Amazon order arrived yet? Because I'm dying to check out the instructions for The Goat and the Tree. I suppose I could always ask _Chuckles the Master of Tantric Sex_ or _27 Positions and Counting Grissom_, but I'd prefer to figure it out on my own."

"How?" Dumbfounded she gawked at her beaming fiancé. "You hacked into my hard drive!" Grabbing a pillow she readied to smack him.

"Red wine stains furniture!" He warned knowing she'd protect the couch even when she wanted to pummel him.

"You were trying to find my wedding vows and you found that, didn't you!" She raised the pillow. "How dare you invade my privacy like that!"

"Hold your fire! I didn't hack into your hard drive, Roxie…or should I call you Slick Nick's Chick." Setting down his glass he happily explained. "Here's what happened…"

**The Grissoms' **

**10:11 p.m. **

What happened to her husband's curiosity Sara wondered as she fought her way into the house with her arms full of bags. She had gone to the townhouse to pick up her purchases from earlier that day and then to the store for groceries to have a romantic late dinner. In the process she hadn't realized how much time had passed. "Gil!" She figured he'd be there waiting to greet her.

The bags were slipping and she set them down in the hall, careful to make sure the one with her French Maid outfit was still hidden. "I'm home!"

When he didn't answer she headed for the bedroom, assuming he was in the bathroom. "Honey?"

But when she stepped in the room she saw him crashed on the bed still dressed. She knew immediately what had happened. He had come home, felt groggy and said…I'll just rest my eyes for a moment. The moment usually turned into eight hours unless the alarm clock woke him earlier.

Walking over to him she heard it…teeth gnashing. The tell tale sign he had a disturbing day. "Honey…" She whispered to see if he'd rouse, but he was already in deep sleep and didn't stir. The day was a lot harder on him than he acknowledged. She wondered also if it made him doubt his ability to parent and be a good father. From time to time she had joked that Greg was Gil's practice son and maybe today her husband thought of that when he was almost responsible for Greg's demise.

So with a loving smile on her face, Sara gently removed her husband's glasses and set them on his nightstand. Then she slipped off his shoes one by one and set them neatly under the bed. From her side of the bed she grabbed the edge of the comforter and brought it over him, cozying him under it. "Good night." After a peck on the lips she retreated, shutting off the light and hoping Gil would awake refreshed.

**Greg's Apartment **

**10:19 p.m. **

"You look refreshed," Tawny commented as Greg hobbled into the living room wearing green and white striped boxers and a yellow t-shirt with his damp hair unspiked. "Is the pill kicking in yet?" She stood to meet him.

"Just starting to." He grabbed the edge of the couch. "I don't want to sleep so I'm going to hang out in here."

She realized he was afraid of having another terror or nightmare. "Feel up to some Xbox? Maybe a little Need for Speed Underground 2?" It was one of his favorites.

"Yeah…that'll work." He let her help him sit. "I really hope my back is better by next week so it doesn't ruin our trip."

Walking over to grab the Xbox console and controller she chuckled. "It's going to take a lot more than a sore back to ruin the trip for me. I'm thrilled to be going away with you, seeing where you grew up, and hanging out in your old stomping ground." Returning she teased, "And I'm dying to see Mr. Peebles, your favorite piece of ass."

Joking back he replied, "He's definitely been replaced as my both my favorite piece of ass and favorite cuddly thing to snuggle at night."

"I'm flattered." She handed him his toy and then flicked on the TV. "I have to toss the laundry into the dryer. Need anything else?"

"A kiss." He waited impatiently for her compliance.

After a minute of smooching Tawny whispered, "I bet Mr. Peebles never kissed you like that."

"I never let him try," He choked out in a laugh.

"That's a relief."

"I bet you kissed your bed pillow, Tawny Ann Cooper."

"Absolutely." Moving closer she gave him an Eskimo Kiss. "I kissed my pillow and fantasized about kissing the man of my dreams."

"Is it the medication or are you making me euphoric?"

"It's a little of both." Closing her eyes she massaged a kiss over his lips and when they parted she murmured, "Mmm…my pillow never kissed me back like that."

"Wow, on your way back could you pour me a glass of ice water?" He fired up the Xbox.

"Sure thing." Grinning, she strolled away whistling. "How about some ice cream too? I have Ben and Jerry's Phish Food."

"Oooh! My favorite!"

**Jim Brass's Apartment **

**10:21 p.m. **

The second Jim through the door he smelled his favorite food. "Is that really Linguine with clam sauce!"

"Not to mention Caesar salad with garlic bread." Heather, dressed like June Clever's brunette sister, strolled over with a chilled glass of Chardonnay. "Welcome home, Dear."

"Wow." He took the glass and dropped his briefcase. "This is…I had a fantasy like this once."

"You can tell me all the details over dinner so I don't leave anything out." Grabbing him by the tie she said, "Now follow me into the kitchen."

"As you wish." Sipping the wine he did as asked. "I'm gonna be praying for shitty days now that I know I get treated like royalty!"

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment **

**10:30 p.m. **

"Not exactly the royal treatment but…" Having pounded down the first bottle of wine, Carrie waltzed into the living room with a second bottle. "I'm afraid we'll be slumming it with this ten dollar bottle after that fabulous bottle you brought home."

"Grapes is grapes," Nick joked while filling the CD player with six country CDs, including the Alan Jackson one he had retrieved from his car.

"Have you decided on my punishment for blabbing about our sex life?" She was relieved that he wasn't upset once she reassured him she hadn't shared any delicate psychological details about him.

"I have three options for you," He replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"I should have known." Smiling, she filled their glasses and then lounged lengthways on the couch holding them, waiting for Nick to return.

After lifting Carrie's legs, he scooted under and dropped them.

"Thank you, Darlin'," He said while receiving the glass of Merlot.

"So let's hear my options, Tex."

"Well, Roxie…" He attempted to keep a straight face. "Option one…when we get to making our wish list for the trip, only **I** get to pick five things, you lose your five and have no say."

"OH!" She took a big sip to ease the pain. "You know that will kill me!"

"Uh huh." A smile started to creep over his face. "So maybe you'd prefer option two…you're only allowed to bring **one** pair of shoes on our trip and since I will definitely be listing hiking as one of my five things, I wouldn't pick something cute or stylish."

"OH! OH!" Holding her head she tried to imagine the nightmare he suggested. "There's just no way…that's not even safe."

"Not even safe?" He cracked up. "What's **unsafe** about only having one pair of shoes?"

"I can't** just** bring my hiking boots so I'll be forced to pick something else…like flats or cute sneakers and then I'll wear them hiking and end up falling off the trail." Her wine buzz kicking in nicely she pointed her finger at him. "Option three better be good."

"Oh…I think it is." He paused for a lengthy sip of wine. "Hey…I like this wine more than the barn one."

"Ugh." She slapped her forehead. "This is swill!"

"Option three…" He leaned closer and winked. "By the way, I think this one is most befitting of the crime."

"Uh oh…" A frisky giggle escaped her lips. "My crime was being naughty and planning on having lots of sex."

"Yeah, Roxie...exactly." He took another sip. "If you can't handle losing your five choices, or your shoes, then you're gettin' spanked and doubling your _total positions number_ from two to four by the time I'm through with ya."

"I choose the second one," She managed to reply without busting out laughing.

"What!"

Carrie grinned, "You thought you had that locked, huh?"

"I know what you want," He returned her naughty smile.

"You think so."

"I have the written evidence to prove it…Slick Nick's Chick." He pointed to the printout they had read earlier. "You're chomping at the bit for numbers three through six, but I'm not gonna tell you what to do. You're your own boss."

**Crime Lab **

**10:35 p.m. **

"How's it going, Boss?" Knowing that Warrick was still hurting from reliving the memories of Holly's death, Catherine walked into his office with his favorite coffee and a supportive smile.

"Hey…" Looking up he found comfort in her smile. "Is that for me?" He saw her extending the jumbo cup.

"Do I know how to suck up to the boss or what?"

"No comment," Warrick chuckled as he brought the cup to his nose. "Smells great and I need the caffeine after today."

"Don't we all." Taking a seat on the edge of his desk she said, "So the plan is that Pete is going to work for you while Nick is on leave?"

"Yeah…with Sara and Jas on vacation and Greg on medical for who knows how long, Brass wanted to bring in Relief Shift."

"That had to take some juggling."

"He didn't seem to mind." Warrick took a sip. "Pete and Sofia will handle everything related to Tucker Mifflin the Brittany Thomas' murder, the attempted murder of his mother and all the stuff with Greg. You, Nina and Trey and I will work our cases and whatever comes in."

"Sounds like a good plan to me."

"I'm fine," He announced in response to the question her eyes were asking.

"Okay." She checked her watch. "The realtor said a fax would be sent to you by midnight accepting our offer. I'll in the Layout Room crossing my fingers."

"I'll call you as soon as it comes through." Holding up the cup he smiled. "Thanks."

"For the coffee?"

"You know what I mean." He shooed her out. "Don't be hanging out here too long, or people will talk and say we're gettin' it on."

"Oh please…" She sauntered towards the door. "Everyone knows I've got it bad for Hodges."

"If that's what you want, Baby, I won't stop you," He joked, "You can have him."

**The Grissoms' **

**10:40 p.m. **

Since she couldn't have her husband, Sara decided to make good use of her time…plotting the best French Maid scenario possible.

With the costume already purchased and hidden in her closet, she was onto the next item. On her computer she was surfing the web for French food recipes because, Mimi, her French alter-ego, was a full-service maid who would be servicing her man in many ways.

"Crepes…" Sara mused when she saw the photo of the delectable food. "Those look yummy and I have all the ingredients on hand. Plus…whipped cream is an option." She grinned while selecting PRINT. "Not only is Gil getting a fun role play tomorrow morning, I'm letting him go off his diet." In silence she debated which he would enjoy more after a month of healthy eating but she quickly decided he'd enjoy it all.

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment **

**10:55 p.m. **

Enjoying the tunes of Clay Walker and the cheap bottle of wine, Carrie and Nick sat on the couch ready to make their trip selections.

Pouring the last the last drop from the bottle, Nick announced, "Since you chose option two for your punishment, you still have your five choices…they have to be one word…because I know you litigious types, you'll want to have all these terms and restrictions otherwise."

"You start."

"Hiking." He snickered, "I can't wait to see you rock hopping through a stream wearing your Keds. You better pack a helmet so when you fall on your ass you're protected from smacking your head."

"Is it too late to rethink my choice?" She inquired in a pouty voice.

"That depends," He answered while jotting down his first selection. "If you're picking option one, then yes, I'm afraid it's too late. If you're picking option three then, no ma'am, you still have plenty of time to change your mind."

"Nevermind then." She laughed into her wine glass.

He snapped up to look at her. "Make your first pick, Roxie…and for your sake I'd pick something you can do barefoot."

"Singing."

"Hold up while I write myself a reminder to pack ear plugs." He winced from the shot in the arm she gave him. "Hey…I wasn't slamming your voice. I thought you were going to make **me **sing. If you want to torture yourself have at it, but why should I suffer?"

"Nice cover." As she watched him writing and grinning, option three was sounding even more appealing than it did when he first mentioned it and she let her mind wander.

Moving on he made his next selection. "Horses."

Gasping she covered her mouth.

"Yep…it's about time you got over your fear of them."

"Do I actually have to get on one? Or can I just pet it?"

"You can pet it…before, during or after your ride."

"Booze." She chuckled, "Because I believe I will have a very sore ass after riding a horse for the first time…at least that's what I've seen in some movies."

"I could toughen you up with that spankin'!" He joked as he wrote down their two choices. "Which reminds me…sex is my next choice." Grinning he brought his wine glass to his mouth.

"Just so I'm clear, are you planning on having sex **with the horse** or me?"

The spray of wine from his mouth as he choked made Carrie jump out from under him. "Are you trying to kill me?" He barked when he stopped laughing and coughing.

"It was a legitimate question!" She yelled while cracking up. "I've heard stories about good 'ol boys and their love of farm animals."

"That's it!" Grabbing her he yanked her on to his lap. "I think I've taken enough abuse about my sex life for one day. Being compared to Gris and Greg was bad enough, but suggesting I have a hankering for livestock is over the top, Roxie." While she laughed riotously and squirmed, he informed her, "I'm choosing for you…option three. As always, if it's too much for you, just say **stop**."

"**Go!"** She blurted while tossing her tee. "We're already in the perfect set up for The Goat and the Tree!"

"Little lady, I'm just a simple boy from the ranch…" After standing up and taking her with him, he tugged down her shorts. "I don't plan on gettin' fancy here. But since you're obsessed with animal lovin', you can pretend you're a doggie if you like."

"Oh!" She blushed. "And you have the nerve to call me naughty! That's pretty risqué talk."

Nick smiled blissfully at the love of his life getting flustered and thinking the word 'doggie' was the epitome of dirty talk.

Backing away she enjoyed watching him shuck his clothes. "By the way, my next trip activity choice is role-play."

"That's two words."

"I'm hyphenating." From behind the couch she ogled him.

Knowing she was enjoying the view he stood still. "Well…you're going to have to remind me to write that down, because I'm a little preoccupied right now."

Leaning over the back of the couch she let her eyes drift lower. "I'll say."

"Do me a favor, Roxie..." He began strolling around the sofa to meet her. "…hold that position."

**Greg's Apartment **

**11:20 p.m. **

"I'm coming from behind!" Greg yelled as he played Need for Speed Underground 2 with a passion.

"Oh, Baby!" Tawny warned when she saw the rain start to fall on the screen, "It's getting slippery!"

"I've got it under control!"

"You're so good at this, Honey." She watched him maneuver with expertise.

"Because I've had plenty of practice." Greg raced to a perfect finish and threw up his arms. "Yesssssss! I'm the best!"

Happy to see him feeling no pain again…mentally or physically, Tawny snuggled up close. "Do you want to play some more, or do you want to watch a movie, or are you finally ready to try sleeping again?"

He rubbed his palms together. "I know just the right movie."

**Carrie and Nick's Apartment **

**11:24 p.m. **

"Movie," Nick declared as his fourth choice while sitting on the couch wearing only his grey boxer briefs and polishing off the Chinese food they had warmed in the microwave after the lovin'.

"Watching one?" Carrie quizzed while she dangled the last bite of an egg roll in front of his mouth. "Or making one of our own?"

"Listen to you," He remarked in surprise after swallowing the bite. "I sincerely hope the film you want to make doesn't take place on a farm."

"No!" She cracked up while adjusting her t-shirt. "Actually, I wish we had been taping the romp we just had." Chuckling she grabbed a napkin to wipe her greasy fingers. "Since I was in front of you, I couldn't see the look on your face when you realized you lost control before getting to promised position number four. Ooops!" She winked. "If you hadn't done such a wonderful job making it up to me, I'd sue you for breach of contract."

"Apparently my mind isn't the only thing I've lost control over, Sweetheart." Pulling her close he gave her an egg roll flavored kiss. "Sorry, but like the Kung Pao Chicken when I tried to take it out of the microwave…it was too hot for me to handle." Her unbridled enthusiasm had taken him by surprise and resulted in him overheating a lot sooner than planned. "That's a compliment to you. Hell, you had me so crazy I saw stars."

"Stars."

"Stars?"

"For my fourth choice…stars." As he scooted down to lie on his side she snuggled up in front of him. "Preferably gazing at them with you."

"I like the sound of that." His voice dropped an octave. "Skinny Dippin' is a good night time activity too so maybe we could combine…" Then he realized what he just said. "God…I'm sorry, Honey. That was so insensitive." He wanted to die for suggesting they get touchy-feely in the water since it was one of the ways the swim coach had taken advantage of Carrie as a child. "What is wrong with me?"

"It's okay…really. It was perfectly logical to suggest…" She saw how pissed he was at himself and she wanted to assure him. "Look…three months ago it would have seemed impossible, but now…with you…I'd love to give it a try. You overcame an inhibition for me, right? So now it's your turn to help me. Remember, if I let what he did to me stop me from living fully, then he still has power over me."

"Okay…" Running his fingers through her hair he nodded. "…but I don't want to write it on the list. We'll just know that should the opportunity arise on the trip, or some other time, we'll give it a try."

"Okay." After pecking his lips she sweetly asked, "So what's your fifth and final activity?"

"Tacky-Roadside-Attraction…I'm hyphenating." He grinned before explaining, "As a kid when we took road trips, we always stopped to see some silly slice of Americana. It was totally ridiculous, but it's what I remember most about those family vacations. As soon as mom and dad would tell us where we'd be going, us kids researched to find the one that was the worst…that was work back when I was a kid because there was no Internet to Google. We had to go to the library, talk to people. It was hard."

"You sound like an old man," She feigned a ninety year old's voice. "When I was a kid we had to walk six miles in the snow to get a loaf of bread with only rabbit skins strapped to our feet."

"Exactly!" He laughed at himself. "I want to stop and see some gaudy monstrosity with you. Maybe we can think of it as practice for future Stokes Family Vacations?"

"Definitely, because I don't plan on denying my kids the joy of visiting cheesy tourist spots. Hey…have you seen The Big Oil Man in Tulsa?"

"Hell yeah, several times." He studied her eyes. "You have?"

"Family trip to study The Great Depression, specifically the dust bowl." She reminded him, "After everything happened, my parents home schooled me, remember?"

"So you took lots of trips to study stuff?"

"Exactly." She beamed with pride. "In Oklahoma I also saw the World's Largest Totem Pole."

"On Route 66." Nick pulled her closer. "We did a whole Route 66 thing one year in the camper."

"Smokey Bear's Grave?"

"Smokey Bear Historical State Park in Capitan, New Mexico. We went there when I was eight." Shaking his head he confessed, "You'll love this…I cried. I was really into Smokey."

"You cried over Smokey's grave! So did I!" Placing her hand on his cheek she gushed, "Will you marry me?"

"Sure, how does February 11th sound?"

"I'll have to check my calendar." After kissing him she probed, "What did your family think when you cried over Smokey?"

"Andy laughed his ass off at me. Called me a Bear-Lovin' Weirdo." Nick remembered it well. "My dad nailed him for disrespecting the dead and the rest of the trip he had to do all my chores as punishment. Oh and when we stopped at some square dance shindig, my mom made him dance. It was…"

"Dancing." She grinned. "That's my fifth and final choice. We've never gone dancing."

"What kind of dancing?"

"Country dancing of course." She listened to the twangy song on the stereo. "Texas Two Step."

"You know how to Two-Step?"

"No, you can teach me." She jumped off the couch and grabbing his hand demanded, "Come on…right now."

"It looks a lot easier than it is, Darlin'."

"I'm a fast learner."

**The Grissoms' **

**11:31 p.m. **

In the kitchen, Sara attempted to successfully make a crepe for the third time. "How could I learn Aerodynamics without breaking a sweat, but not grasp this!" They kept falling apart when she tried to flip them. In her panic she grabbed the phone to call Wendy, but then realized it was almost midnight.

Deciding she needed to take her mind off the stress of cooking something special for her husband, Sara walked into the living room and grabbed the remote. She figured she'd watch a little TV and relax before making a new batch.

Flipping the channels around she saw the opening credits to a movie called Baby Boom. The inclusion of the word baby intrigued her enough to take a seat to watch the beginning.

**Crime Lab **

**Warrick's Office **

**11: 40 p.m. **

Beginning to wonder where Catherine was, Warrick waited impatiently for her to answer her cell. Finally he heard her voice…

"I'm sorry I can't take your call right now…I'm busy in Trace making Hodges' wet dreams come true."

"Hey!" Warrick cringe-laughed. "To quote Greggo…that's waaaaaaay too squicky for me."

"So do we have a house?"

"We have a house." He set down the contract. "They took what we offered and there are no additional terms. They agreed to the fifteen day close too."

"Excellent!"

Warrick breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's hope Lindsay loves it."

"She's got an even bigger room than the last house and still has her own bathroom." Catherine groaned, "I would have killed for that as a teen. Why do you think I ran away?"

"I'm sure she will." Warrick checked his watch. "I have a meeting with Pete and Sofia at midnight, but what do you say about rendezvousing in the break room around one thirty?"

"I'd say that sounds nice. But I'm really looking forward to meeting you at eight-thirty in our bed."

**Greg's Apartment **

**11:45 p.m. **

Spooning Tawny in bed and watching The Wizard of Oz, Greg confessed, "I've heard this movie takes on a whole new meaning when you're high."

Laughing in his arms Tawny informed Greg, "I think you're supposed to be on an acid trip, Honey."

"I don't know…this Munchkinland scene is doing more for me than it used to."

"I'm really glad I had this movie for you. A friend gave it to me for my birthday a few years ago…you know, the Miss Kansas thing. Dorothy is from Kansas."

"Ahhh, but that's only the surface interpretation." He sat up and educated her. "Dorothy represents youth at the crossroads to adulthood. Kansas is the external world and it's bleak because we don't know what we want from it and we can't understand all that it has to offer. The anxiety builds inside us and manifests itself in the twister…the symbol of our internal struggles."

"Whoa." Tawny stared at her animated man. "Where did you get that?"

"Symbolism in Film. I got an A."

Intrigued she prodded, "Tell me more. What about Oz?"

"Oz represents the internal. When Dorothy goes to Oz she's really just going inside herself to find enlightenment. When she opens the door of the trashed house, she's really opening the door to her soul and the journey begins. The Yellow Brick Road is the path to self-actualization, hence Dorothy's mantra…follow the yellow brick road…stay on the path and you will be enlightened."

Lying on her back Tawny sighed, "Why is this making me more attracted to you than ever?"

"I don't know, but now that I know that, I'm definitely sharing some more." Excited he explained, "I bet this will blow your mind. In literature, shoes are often used to represent female sexuality. Think of Cinderella…when the slipper fits it means that Cinderella gets to marry the Prince…which means she finally has sex. One interpretation of Dorothy's slippers is that they symbolize her struggle to accept sexuality."

"No way!" She sat up enthralled.

"Totally!Dorothy is at the crossroads, she wants to remain an innocent child safe on the farm and yet she wants to** explore** the world around her…meaning sexuality. When she first goes on her journey, what happens? The good witch takes the ruby slippers from the wicked witch and places them on Dorothy saying…there they are and there they'll stay. Dorothy balks at first. Why?" He spoke in an all-knowing tone. "Because the slippers represent sex…the wicked one had the slippers meaning she had sex. Now Dorothy is being told this is a part of you as a woman and it's not going away, you have to face it. That was terrifying and yet enticing at the same time…just like the idea of sex is when you're a virgin."

"Holy shit!" Tawny bubbled with excitement. "I always knew you were smart about science but…hey…what does that say about girls who have lots of shoes? Like Carrie for instance? She has more shoes than anyone I've ever known. Hmm…"

"Get this…in the book, Dorothy's slippers were silver, but in the movie they made them red…it's a more sexually charged color." Shrugging he admitted, "There are other interpretations, some think the slippers represent the spark of life and that by telling Dorothy never to take off her slippers, she should never lose that spark, and that they changed them to red in the movie because they would really pop on the big screen."

"Oooh I like that one too."

"There's also a whole political take on everything regarding the populist movement and oppression." He grinned. "But we didn't focus on that as much because every guy in the class was hard up and hoping to wow some babe with Wizard of Oz sex talk."

"It works!"

"It didn't back then." He burst out laughing. "I tried it one night at this party and the girl called me a creep and threw a beer in my face."

"Awww…" Tawny pulled him close. "You can enlighten me anytime, Chuckles."

"To answer your question about Carrie and her shoes…" Greg slid to lie down next to Tawny. "I think shoes were her substitute for sex. There she would be standing at the fork in the road asking herself should I go for it? Then, because of her issues, she'd chicken out and buy shoes instead."

"I could see that." Tawny nodded and smiled. "So now that she's in a loving relationship with Nick, she should be buying less shoes."

Greg chuckled. "And more books from Amazon. Because now she doesn't only want knowledge…she wants to perfect it."

**Carrie and Nick's Apartment **

**11:51 p.m. **

After five minutes of dance lessons Nick broached the delicate subject with his perfectionist fiancée, "Carrie…Sweetheart…um…"

"I know!" Stuffing her hands on her hips she yelped, "I stink!"

"But you have potential," He soothed in a sunny tone. "I told you it was harder than it looks."

Rolling her eyes she groaned, "It's a freaking four stepdance…fast, fast, slow, slow!"

"How many times have you gone dancing?"

"Does aerobic dancing at the gym count?"

"I meant dancing with a partner."

"Oh." She smiled sweetly. "I've danced at weddings…only slow ones…and most of those were with my dad."

"That explains a lot." Taking her hand he brought it to his lips for a kiss. "See…a big chunk of the problem is you're trying to lead…and you're forcing it…and you're lifting and clomping your feet instead of gliding them…and you keep staring at your feet…and you're bouncing like…"

"Got it!" She started laughing. "Is there anything I'm doing well?"

A grin plastered his face. "You're cute as hell when you're frustrated…I'm lovin' that."

Releasing his hand she headed for the couch. "I think I'll pick a new number five activity."

"Oh no…I'm not letting you throw in the towel that easy. Get back here." Nick moved over to the stereo. "First I'm putting on a slower song." He selected Hal Ketchum's Small Town Saturday Night and hit the repeat function since he figured it would take a while.

Reluctantly Carrie returned to the center of the room. "Maybe I'm too buzzed from the wine to catch on."

"Trust me the wine is working in your favor." He couldn't imagine how stiff and uncoordinated she'd be sober. "Now, Honey…" He took both of her hands. "Remember our first night together?"

"Of course." A blissful smile emerged on her face.

"I think it will help matters if you take the same approach to learning this dance that you did that night."

She pondered it for a moment. "Oh…you want me to try real hard to relax while you take the lead?"

"Exactly…you just hold on to me and let me take you where I want to go. No big moves…things stay nice and smooth." Taking her in arms he instructed, "Keep your eyes on me and just let your body react. The only thing you need to know is when I step forward you step back. If you don't think about it too much, it will just happen."

"This totally reminds me of Dirty Dancing!" Carrie giggled, "And I can finally understand why Baby was so hot for Johnny even though he was a bit of a blockhead." She laughed harder. "Not that I'm saying you're a blockhead. You're sexy, skilled and sweet like Johnny…but with brains…and a real career."

"Okay, Baby…here we go." Right off the block she stepped on his toes. "It's okay…"

"Sorry!" She looked down at their feet.

"Starting over." He lifted her chin with his fingertips. "Remember, relax and look at me."

"Ha! You've seen the movie."

"No comment." He laughed.

She took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

"Fast, fast…slow…slow." He coached, "You move your feet. Let **me **move your body. Fast, fast…slow…slow."

**Brass's Apartment **

**11:58 p.m **

"Slow down!" Jim begged as Heather massaged his tense shoulders. "And ease up on the pressure. I think you have me confused with a client paying you to hurt him."

"Sorry…" Heather grinned as she lightened her touch. "It comes naturally. More so when I'm PMS'ing."

"Thanks for that tidbit of information. I'll mark those days on my calendar from here on out and make sure I don't let you tie me up."

"Wise move," She purred in his ear.

"That explains those scratches you left on me about this time last month. I need to pay more attention."

Snickering she encouraged, "Don't worry…eventually you get it."

**The Grissoms' **

**11:58 p.m. **

"I'm never going to get it!" As Sara watched Diane Keaton struggle with motherhood on TV, Sara tossed her spatula and lamented, "That's going to be me trying to parent…pathetic…like my crepes. My domestic gene is sorely lacking."

Looking around the kitchen she noticed the mess she had made. "All this and not one decent crepe. The French Maid is going to be so exhausted from cleaning she won't have energy to do all the fun stuff."

The mention of exhaustion threw her into a series of yawns "I'll just lie on the couch and rest my eyes for a little while and then I'll get it."

**August 24, 2005 (Day 124) **

**Carrie and Nick's Apartment **

**12:24 a.m. **

After six plays of Small Town Saturday Night, Nick cheerily proclaimed, "You've got it!" Sure, she would still stick out like a sore thumb in any bar in Texas, but she was definitely catching on.

"I think I really do have it!" She gushed with pride. "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!" She quoted from Dirty Dancing. "Okay, so we have to find a bar to dance at during our road trip." They continued circling the living room getting a little smoother with each pass. "Oooh! I'm going to challenge myself to combine all five of my activities into one night. Singing…booze…stars…role-play and dancing."

Shaking his head Nick sighed, "You're not supposed to plan or challenge yourself…you're supposed to let things happen and have fun."

"You're just saying that because you can't possibly think of a way to combine hiking, horses, sex, a movie and a tacky-roadside-attraction all in one activity."

"Oh, trust me…I could." Truthfully he had easily combined the first three within one date several times. "But I'd rather spread my pleasure out over five days." Then he moved in for a kiss.

Realizing she was off beat, Carried huffed, "That kiss messed me up."

"Time to change the music anyway." Leaving his partner he hurried to the stereo. "I'm bringing back Mr. Alan Jackson. There's a song I want you to hear…Once in a Lifetime Love."

With a 100-watt smile she stood waiting for her partner to return. "I'm having a wonderful time and we haven't even left yet."

"Me too." When he returned Nick placed his hands on Carrie's shoulders. "I know this is going to work for me…relaxing with you…clearing my head. I'm gonna get it back."

"Of course you are, Honey," She assured him while letting him take the lead.

"No fancy steps this time." He brushed the words over her lips with a kiss. "Just holding the one you love."

**Greg's Apartment **

**12:30 a.m. **

"Tawny, you know what's really cool about this part of the movie?" That's when he realized she had dozed. "Yeah…you have to be exhausted." He spooned her a little tighter, grateful that he wasn't alone after the trauma of the day. Alone like he was the night after Dales Trail when he sat in the living room with all the lights on drinking coffee after coffee trying to stay awake and avoid the nightmares.

And the nightmares that lonely night weren't limited to the terror on the trail. That night as he sat alone with no one to hold, he wondered if the day would ever come when he'd have a woman who cared about him… other than his mother, who was flying out in the morning. With nothing but time on his hands he sat there in the brightly lit room wishing there was someone out there with whom he could connect. Someone who would be tolerant of his quirks and have the patience to get to know him before deciding he wasn't relationship material. Maybe someone who even appreciated what he thought he had to offer if ever given a chance.

On this night, lying in a darkened bedroom watching a child's movie in the arms of the woman carrying his children, Greg knew even if he fell asleep and had nightmares, he'd be having one less than he did on that July night after Dales Trail. He'd never have to fear loneliness again, for that special person he dreamed about and hoped was there waiting for him was in his arms.

Closing his eyes he rejoiced that in twelve days she would be wearing his diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. Shortly after that she'd be walking down the aisle on Grissom's arm while he waited for her standing next to Nick. All their friends and family would be there to celebrate the special day and six months later they'd celebrate the arrival of two healthy babies. It was easy to visualize and he focused on the details as he drifted off to sleep, hoping that they would defeat the horrible images and fears trying to creep into his mind.

**The Grissoms' **

**12:31 a.m. **

When he woke in the bedroom Gil realized he had fallen asleep waiting for Sara. "Honey?" He called out in a groggy voice while tossing on his glasses.

The time on the clock and the fact she wasn't in bed sent his heart racing. "Sara?" But as soon as he got out of bed and saw his shoes **neatly** off to the side he knew she was home safe and left to check the other rooms of the house.

From the hall he heard the TV and so he headed for the kitchen. "Honey? I'm really sorry I fell asleep. I guess I was more…" That's when he saw her curled up on the couch. "Sorry."

When he reached her he clicked off the TV and pulled the blanket off the back of the leather sofa. Gently he tucked it around her while wondering why she had tiny flecks of beige paste on her cheeks. After licking his finger he swiped one of the spots and brought it to his mouth.

"Batter," He declared as he stood up straight. Glancing towards the kitchen he saw the source of the product. A delightful smile crept onto his face. "She was cooking," Gil whispered as he walked towards the mess.

Upon arrival in the batter-covered kitchen his smile expanded to a grin. "She was doing this to surprise me."

He picked up the printed copy of the crepe recipe which was coated in ingredients. "That's okay, Sweetheart…" He looked over at his sleeping wife with loving eyes. "I'll surprise you in the morning instead."

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment **

Holding each other while gently swaying to the music, Nick and Carrie hadn't exchanged a word. But now that the song was done, Nick whispered, "What do you think?"

"Just like the song says…" She glanced up with glistening eyes and quoted from the song. "There's no mistakin'…it's perfectly clear…we have a once in a lifetime love."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Gently resting his forehead against hers Nick asked, "I was wondering…would this be a good song for us to dance to at…"

"Absolutely." Reaching up she tenderly placed her palm on his cheek. "Since we're starting over on the planning, this can be our first wedding decision. This will be our song."

"Thank you." He smiled appreciatively while holding her tighter. "Not just for agreeing to the song, but for everything you've done…and everything that you are…and everything I know you're going to be to me. I love you, Carrie."

"I love you too," She soulfully replied. "And I'm looking forward to all that lies ahead…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** This is the end of the Losing It series. I hope you enjoyed it! Since it's against the rules to address questions or comments in your reviews (that's why the story was pulled last time), unless you leave an email addy I can't reply. Just so you know I'm not ignoring you!

**Next Series:** Getting It Back (the last series in Feasiblity Study)

**Posting:** Saturday (but this site is not allowing me some functionality since the change so if it's not here on Saturday click my homepage for my website link.)

Thanks for reading and commenting!  
Maggs


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